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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588502">Bloom Town</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0t_my_name/pseuds/n0t_my_name'>n0t_my_name</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Naive!Dani, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Wild West, but not naive for long, earth-shattering lesbian sex scenes disguised as a complex fully realized story, just lots of sex you guys, outlaw!Jamie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:48:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>118,401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0t_my_name/pseuds/n0t_my_name</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer of 1852 and Dani O'Mara is traveling west to join her husband Edmund in the goldmine town he left her behind in Iowa to establish two years prior. The long journey, she's expecting. The desert heat, she's expecting. The nervous anticipation at the idea of a fresh start out west, she's expecting. She’s decidedly not, however, expecting a gang of outlaws to kidnap her from the train by order of their notorious leader, JT London. (It’s Jamie. She’s the leader. If that was in any way unclear.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dani Clayton &amp; Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>616</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay one more.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>               Utah Territory, June 1852</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>   There was an enormous black fly buzzing in the corner of the train window. It had been buzzing there frantically for at least an hour, ever since the conductor came by to shut all the windows with a grunted explanation of <em>headed into a dust storm.</em> So now, rather than death by dust, they were all going to swelter to death in the stifling heat of the train car. The fly would outlive them all. </p><p>   Dani turned back to the worn book in her lap. <em>Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heav’n. </em>She’d been stuck on that line, reading and rereading it for long moments, the fly’s incessant buzz a considerable distraction. Just then the pest flew within an arm’s reach and she took the moment, lashing out with her book, smacking it against the window. She peeled it back slowly, peeking under, expecting to find a ruined cover and a gory mess, but suddenly the buzzing sounded again, this time across the train car’s aisle in the window opposite her own. She sighed.</p><p>   Someone was giggling—the little girl seated with her family at the front of the train car had turned in her seat to watch her. The man and his two children were the only other people in the car. They’d gotten on in Provo when nearly everyone else had gotten off. The little girl, clearly amused at Dani’s frustration with the fly, giggled again. Dani looked at her, and the little girl smiled. Dani smiled back before turning to her book once more. <em>Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heav’n. </em>This time it wasn’t the fly that stopped her from reading on, it was the ticket taker, entering the car and stopping at the velvet seat where the little girl sat with her family.  </p><p>   “Tickets, please,” he asked the father, sticking two fingers beneath his collar and tugging. From where she sat Dani could see rivers of sweat running down the poor ticket man’s face. It truly was stifling.</p><p>   Her eyes went back to her book.</p><p>   “Tickets?” A little voice asked. “How bothersome, I seem to have misplaced them—”</p><p>   Dani’s eyes flicked up once more. The little boy was standing now, checking his waistcoat and trouser pockets.</p><p>   The ticket taker looked annoyed. “Perhaps you can wake your father and ask—”</p><p>   “No,” the little boy’s voice was sharp, “he’s quite tired. And anyway, I’m the one who handles these sorts of transactions.”</p><p>   Dani was really watching now. The little girl had a wrinkle in her forehead, she looked nervous. It was possible they couldn’t afford the train fare. Dani’s purse was stowed in the mahogany rack overhead and she glanced up at it. Her instinct was to offer them the fare, yet there was no way to know how far they were going, how much it would cost. She didn’t have much herself, her own ticket from Iowa had cost a small fortune.</p><p>   “If you haven’t any tickets you’ll need to purchase them from me now,” the ticket taker was telling the boy.</p><p>   Both children seemed to visibly relax at that.</p><p>   “Capital! Three tickets, please,” the boy said, pulling a large roll of paper bills from his pocket.</p><p>   Something about the crisp way he’d said it caught in Dani’s ear. An accent? But when he spoke again his words had returned to a clumsy drawl, sounding just like the children in her classroom back home.</p><p>   “How long until we reach Redrock Junction, please?” The boy asked.</p><p>   “Is that where you’re headed?” The ticket taker asked.</p><p>   The boy glanced down at the little girl and she gave him a subtle nod.</p><p>   “That’s right,” he told the ticket taker with a smile.</p><p>   “Coming up on it in short order. An hour at most.” He held out three tickets. When the exchange had taken place the ticket taker looked down at the boy once more. “You shouldn’t be carrying all that on you,” he indicated the boy’s bulging pocket of bills, “your father should know better.” He cast an unimpressed look on the sleeping man. “We’re headed into the wild.”</p><p>   “That’s kind of you, sir,” the boy said politely, “but we’re not afraid of the wild.”</p><p>   “Perhaps you should be,” the ticket taker muttered. He started back down the train’s aisle, nodding and tipping his hat to Dani as he passed.</p><p>   The little boy’s voice called after him. “Perhaps the wild should be afraid of us.”</p><p>   Both Dani and the ticket taker looked at him, and when he had their eyes the little boy smiled sweetly before turning and sitting back down.</p><p> </p><p>   They entered the dust storm shortly after, and between the day’s waning light and the horrid cloud of sand engulfing them Dani altogether gave up on her book and tucked it away in the deep pocket of her dress skirt. She took off her traveling bonnet, laying it across her lap so she could stretch the tired muscles in her neck. It was only her second day of travel and already the journey was weighing on her. In his letters home to her Edmund had called the trip invigorating<em>.</em> <em>You’ll find it invigorating, </em>he’d written, <em>seeing the great land beyond the rolling green hills of our parish. </em>So far she’d mostly just seen dust. But she far preferred the dust storm to any other forms of <em>invigoration</em>. In his letters Edmund had written of other things. Campfires on the hills overlooking Promise, hooves pounding in the dark, savage war cries echoing into the night. He wrote of a double hanging he’d witnessed when he’d left Promise to visit a larger town for supplies—an outlaw accused of racketeering and one of <em>them</em>, an Indian, painted and strange. They’d hanged him with the scalps he’d taken still swinging at his side.</p><p>   As far as Dani was concerned, a little bit of dust was fine. The important thing was that Promise was <em>safe</em>—so much so that finally, after two long years, Edmund had at last deemed Promise sheltered enough to send for Dani. He’d written to say they’d put in a fence around the entire establishment, he’d just hired the new town’s very first sheriff and the general store would be opening up any day now.</p><p>   A loud <em>thwunk </em>drew Dani’s eyes back to the little family. It seemed the father had stood up quickly and hit his head on the wooden rack above. He was scowling, rubbing his head and letting out a high-pitched whine. The little girl stood, pulling on his arm, trying to get him to sit. His whines grew louder and it was…strange. The girl and boy were both pulling on his arms now, and the girl kept glancing over at Dani, seemingly concerned what she might think.</p><p>   To spare them embarrassment Dani looked away, but she could still hear the boy murmuring to his father, soothing him. From the corner of her eye she saw the boy pull something from his pocket and hand it to the man, who immediately grew calm. He sat back down, busy with whatever it was the boy had handed him.</p><p>   Dani glanced back over at them and found the little girl watching her again, that wrinkle back in her forehead. A moment later the girl stood and made her way down the aisle, settling into the seat directly opposite Dani’s. Dani looked at her.</p><p>   "Hello,” the girl said. “I’m dreadfully sorry for all that,” she gestured back in the direction of her family, “it’s unforgiveable, the way we’ve interrupted your evening. Traveling really is such a bother.”</p><p>   Dani felt herself smile. “There’s no need to apologize.”</p><p>   The little girl looked relieved.</p><p>   “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing,” Dani said.</p><p>   “Not at all,” the little girl smoothed her hands over the blue dress skirt and pulled at one of the bodice’s many bows, “it’s a horrid little frock, really.” Her head tilted beneath her small bonnet. “My name is Flora.”</p><p>   “Hello, Flora. I’m Mrs. O’Mara.”</p><p>   “Hello, Mrs. O’Mara. May I ask where it is you’re going?”</p><p>   “I,” Dani shifted away from the window, closer to the aisle, closer to Flora, “am on my way to California.”</p><p>   “California? Oh, how divine! And what will you do there?”</p><p>   “Well, my husband is the mayor of a brand new town called Promise—”</p><p>   “The mayor! Oh my goodness.”</p><p>   Dani smiled. “He’s been working hard to establish the settlement for two years, and now that it’s a fully functioning town I’m going to join him. I’ll be the teacher at the schoolhouse there.”</p><p>   “The teacher!” Her little hands clutched at the fabric of her dress skirt excitedly. “Oh, Mrs. O’Mara. You’re on a proper adventure, aren’t you?”</p><p>   Dani laughed a bit at the girl’s infectious enthusiasm. “I suppose I am. And you? Where are you headed?”</p><p>   “To Redrock Junction,” she said with a little nod.</p><p>   “With your brother and,” Dani glanced over at the young boy and the man, who was still busy with whatever was in his hands, “your father?”</p><p>   “That’s right,” Flora said quickly. “My brother and my father. We’re going to visit an uncle.”</p><p>   As she’d spoken Flora’s eyes had flickered to the left, just once. It would have gone unnoticed by most, but back in Iowa Dani had been the schoolteacher in Cottonwood since she’d turned seventeen. Nearly seven years she’d worked with children, day in and day out. She knew children well. Knew their quirks, knew their habits. And Flora, she knew, was lying.</p><p>   “Flora!” The little boy called her from up the aisle. “Leave the nice lady alone.”</p><p>   “Oh, I don’t—” <em>mind</em>, Dani was going to say, but the boy was looking at Flora intently, as though trying to tell her something else entirely.</p><p>   Flora stood abruptly, clutching her hands behind her back. “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. O’Mara.”</p><p>   "And you, Flora,” Dani nodded, “I hope you have a wonderful visit with your uncle.”</p><p>   "Yes,” the little girl blinked. “Goodbye, then.”</p><p>   She returned to her seat and the car fell into a long silence as the train clacked and chugged along, heaving its way farther and farther into the desolate territory.</p><p> </p><p>   The dust storm cleared as the sun was setting. They’d long left farmland behind, but for some time the land had been flat and open, brown and dull. But <em>this</em>. Dani leaned forward, taking in the expanse beyond the window. The land stretched endlessly in every direction, punctuated here and there by strange rock formations, tall and arching. But it was the colors that stunned her. Reds and oranges, streaks of rust and mottled ochre, all beneath a dappled purple sky. Even in the dim twilight it was a palette unlike anything she’d seen before, unlike anything she could’ve imagined from behind her desk inside the single-room schoolhouse of Cottonwood, Iowa.</p><p>   A thrill tingled up Dani’s spine. What a beautiful land. And how glorious to see it all from inside the relative comfort and safety of the locomotive. She’d never given it much thought before, but she found herself musing that trains were, perhaps, man’s greatest invention to date. It was an epiphany, and a glorious one at that—the idea that it was entirely possible for one to see the world without ever stepping foot from civilization.</p><p>   There was a sudden noise, a commotion somewhere back in the adjacent train car. The door to their car opened and a train worker, a man dressed in dirty gray slops, rushed down the aisle, continuing on into the next car.</p><p>   Dani glanced over at Flora and her family. Flora was staring out the window and the boy looked as though he might’ve fallen asleep against his father’s shoulder. They hadn’t seemed to take much notice the worker rushing through. She settled back against the velvet seatback, wrapping the ribbon of her bonnet around a finger. She’d bought a separate bonnet just for the occasion—a lavender silk cap with cream lace and feathers, mean to match her lavender skirt and cream boots, but the bonnet was tucked away for safekeeping in her case above. Hopefully it would be spared of wrinkles—she meant to wear the ensemble in its entirety when she first arrived in Promise. She’d spent a good deal on the outfit but first impressions were of the utmost importance and she intended to make a statement as the Mayor’s wife and schoolteacher.   </p><p>   All at once a screeching sounded from beneath the train, several errant sparks erupting and flashing by outside the window. The polished wood of the floor shuddered beneath Dani’s feet and she pressed her face to the glass, trying to see what was happening.</p><p>   The train was slowing down. They had to be getting close to Redrock Junction, an hour had come and gone, yet Dani couldn’t see any indication they were nearing a town. No lights in the distance, just the last slip of sunlight sinking down into the black horizon. The little boy was waking, rubbing his eyes. Flora’s face was pressed to the window as well. Just then the door to the train car opened once again and this time it was the ticket taker who rushed down the aisle.</p><p>   “Pardon me,” Dani leaned up, holding onto the seat in front of her, “has something happened?”</p><p>   The ticket taker seemed anxious, glancing at Flora’s family before looking back to Dani. “Small track fire, Miss.”</p><p>   “A <em>fire</em>?” Dani’s hand flew to her throat.</p><p>   “Not to worry, Miss, it was spotted well in time. The workers will see to it and we’ll be on our way.” He tipped his hat and hurried on as the train ground to a halt.</p><p><em>   A track fire. </em>All at once her heart was in her throat.</p><p>   Edmund hadn’t been the first man to leave Cottonwood in search of gold and glory out west, and Dani had overheard talk amongst the parishioners at her father’s church over Sunday pot lucks. Talk of danger and lawlessness. There was one man several counties over who’d left with a group of prospectors he’d taken up with in Des Moines. On their way to California their caravan had to pass through a tight valley, walls of rock boxing them on all sides. As the story went, there was a bundle of fabric lying directly in their path, and as they approached it the fabric began to <em>whimper</em>. A baby, left out to die. But as they went to retrieve the infant, to calm it and help it, a band of outlaws descended on them with a terrifying fanfare of gunpowder and peril. An ambush, they realized, but too late. They’d massacred the prospectors and only the man from several counties over had survived to tell the tale, but apparently he’d been left with a horrible injury—a gunshot had taken his eye. He lived in solitude after that, the townspeople too terrified to look upon him.</p><p>   The townships between Cottonwood and Promise were safe, Edmund had promised. The outlaws were known in the settlements both by face and by name—they never wandered too close for fear of the noose. Likewise, the Indians kept to the prairies and the deserts and the settlers kept to town. There was an understanding there. But venture outside of a settlement, venture into the unknown, and no such understanding existed. Venture onto <em>their</em> land, and you were a sitting duck. An easy mark.</p><p>   And a train, sitting idle on the tracks in the middle of the dark desert, its cars aglow with flickering candlelight, was akin to a beacon. As easy a mark as Dani could imagine.</p><p>   She sat there, clutching her throat and listening to her own heartbeat, worried that its frenzied thumping would make it impossible to hear the sound of pounding hooves that might alert them to an ambush.</p><p>   There were voices outside the train now, and in the distance Dani could make out the bobbing light of a lantern—a train worker, no doubt, sent to remedy the situation. It would be fine soon, she assured herself. Another worker in gray slops rushed down the aisle, paying no heed to the small group of passengers.</p><p>   Dani watched him go, then suddenly her eyes flicked to the young boy, drawn there because the child was watching her. Staring, really, with a strange look on his face. But the minute she caught his eyes his polite smile was back in place, he was tipping his head and turning back around.</p><p>   There was a clawing feeling spreading throughout Dani. A feeling of inevitability. The train was so quiet now, the only sound coming from outside as the workers shouted to one another along the tracks in the distance. She didn’t want to go out there. Out into the darkness, out into the wild. But as the moments stretched, the feeling grew. Something was coming. She was absolutely certain of it.</p><p>   Every Sunday in the month leading up to her departure, Dani’s father had insisted on bringing her up before the entire church to lead his congregation in a prayer for her safe deliverance. It had been uncomfortable and altogether embarrassing, all that attention. Especially considering her history with her father’s church. Especially considering the last time she’d been dragged to the front to be prayed over. But now, sitting helpless on the tracks in the middle of the desert, the darkness closing in…if prayers held even a shadow of the power her father vested in them, well. She was glad for them now.</p><p>   “Mrs. O’Mara?”</p><p>   Dani’s forehead had been pressed to the cold glass of the window and she startled at the sound of the little girl’s voice, suddenly standing there in the aisle right beside her seat.</p><p>   “Yes, Flora?” Dani forced a small smile.</p><p>   “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my father.”</p><p>   “Isn’t he—” <em>sitting right beside you,</em> but Dani looked and the seat—the entire train car—was empty.</p><p>   “I can’t find my brother, either,” Flora was saying, as Dani looked around the car frantically.</p><p>   They were there not a moment ago, it made no sense.</p><p>   “The lavatory, perhaps?” Dani asked, peering down the aisle in the direction of the toilets.</p><p>   Flora shook her head. “I believe they went that way,” she pointed down the aisle in the opposite direction, toward the back of the train.</p><p>   “Well I—” Dani swallowed, glancing back and forth down the aisle again. The wooden rack above where they’d been sitting was now empty too, their worn carpet bag now missing. Dani looked back at Flora. “They left the car without telling you?”</p><p>   Flora nodded. “My father, he’s—” She had that little worried wrinkle in her forehead again. “He gets confused sometimes. I think perhaps he thought we’d arrived at Redrock Junction.”</p><p>   “You mean to tell me he took your brother and <em>disembarked the train</em>?”</p><p>   “I’m afraid it’s entirely possible.”</p><p>   “Surely once he realizes we haven’t arrived in Redrock—"</p><p>   “I really rather not wait. As I said, he gets confused sometimes.” Flora sighed, a giant breath that had her shoulders rearing up toward her ears. “I suppose this leaves me no other option. Good evening, Mrs. O’Mara, it’s been such a delight.” She turned on her tiny heel and headed in the direction of the rear car door.</p><p>   “Wait,” Dani called after her, “where are you going?”</p><p>   “To find them, of course.”</p><p>   “<em>Outside</em>?”</p><p>   The little girl just blinked at her, waiting.</p><p>   “You can’t go out there,” Dani said, “come on, let’s go find the man who sold your brother the tickets, I imagine he’ll know what to do—” Dani slid from her seat and stood in the aisle, reaching out a hand for Flora.</p><p>   But Flora shook her head. “I’ve caused such a fuss already, really I’m rather embarrassed for how silly I’ve been. And you, already in a state, fretting over the little track fire—oh, Mrs. O’Mara, how terribly inconsiderate of me.” She smiled and gave the tiniest of curtsies. “Until we meet again.” And with that, she left the train car.</p><p>   The panic was back in Dani’s chest, clawing its way up her throat. She didn’t want to go out there, she <em>wouldn’t </em>go out there, but she couldn’t let Flora go out there either. A <em>child</em> alone out in the desert, it was unthinkable, not even worth imagining. She raced to the front of the train car, opened the door and called into the adjacent seating area for someone, anyone. But all was empty and quiet. She rushed to the next door only to realize that to go any farther she’d need to pass between cars, traverse the short iron platform connecting them. She’d need to go outside, even if only for a split second. But what if the train door locked behind her? What if the door to the adjacent car wouldn’t open? What if she became trapped outside?</p><p>   No, it wasn’t a good idea. She turned back, hurrying to where she’d last seen Flora. Best to find her before it was too late, convince her to wait inside, safe and sound, until they could speak with a train worker.  </p><p>   Dani passed back through the traveling compartment, past her own traveling case stowed on the rack above. The rear door led to a sleeper section; bunks built into the walls of the train for passengers wishing to spend a little more for comfort. The car was empty, quiet and dark save for a single lantern that flickered overhead, making shadows stretch and flutter. There was no answer as Dani called out Flora’s name, softly and then a bit louder. At the far end of the car there were two tall closets on either side of the aisle, likely storage space for the passengers of the sleeper car. Long velvet curtains hung in place of a closet door, and the effect was eerie—growing up Dani had often been told her imagination would be her undoing and there in that dark train car she was inclined to agree—<em>anything </em>could be hiding behind one of those curtains. The mere thought had her heart pummeling against her chest. The quiet was surging in her ears and the panic was building, and in a fit of terror she tore the curtain aside, revealing the contents of the closet on the right. Empty. She sighed. She was quite literally jumping at shadows and it was ridiculous. The train was safe. Everything was fine.</p><p>   She walked the few remaining steps to the door of the train car and stopped short. Through the small glass panel she could see Flora standing there on the metal platform. It was the very back end of the train—there was nothing behind her but the dark night. Her hands were clutched behind her back and she was staring at the door as if she were waiting for someone.</p><p>   In that moment Dani’s horror at the small girl being alone outside completely vanquished her own fears and she pulled the door open.</p><p>   "Flora? What are you doing?”</p><p>   “Waiting,” the little girl said decisively, avoiding Dani’s eyes.</p><p>   There was a tingle. A tiny prickle of dread, meandering its way up Dani’s spine. “Waiting for—for <em>what</em>?”</p><p>   Flora’s eyes flicked to hers at last. “For you.”</p><p>   Dani heard the velvet curtain of the other closet suddenly fly open, a great distinctive <em>whooshing </em>sound that she’d remember for many years to come, and the man and young boy burst out. Before she could run, before she could scream, before she could even <em>think</em>, the man had a massive hand over her mouth, his muscled arm in a vice grip around her waist, holding her back to his chest.</p><p>   The initial shock gave way to holy terror and Dani began to <em>scream</em> against the man’s hand with every ounce of fortitude she possessed. She bit his hand, hard, and was shocked all over again when it worked—the man recoiled, clutching his hand and looking at Dani in fear as he whimpered. She was so shocked at her own success in breaking free that it took a moment before instinct took over, before she realized she needed to <em>run</em>.</p><p>   She tore down the train car, her only intent to keep going until she found help. She reached for the door when suddenly there was a deafening <em>crack </em>and a good portion of the door she’d been about to open was in splinters by her feet. It was instinct to turn around, to see what had happened.</p><p>   The little boy was standing in the aisle halfway down the train car, a smoking revolver still in his hand.</p><p>   “Run again,” he said softly, “and it’ll be your leg I aim for. And I never miss.”</p><p>   Dani’s mind was in overdrive, trying and failing to process the unfolding events. The boy had a gun—he’d <em>shot </em>the gun—at <em>her</em>, no less—and his voice—it was an accent after all, a crisp foreign sound that had Dani’s stomach sinking lower and lower because if their earlier display in the passenger car had all been a charade then <em>who were these people</em>.</p><p>   “Peter,” the boy said calmly, still pointing his revolver, “please come collect Danielle, and endeavor to keep a tighter grip, will you? Clearly she’s quite spirited.”</p><p>   Dani’s veins turned to ice. She hadn’t told them her first name.</p><p>   “She <em>hurt </em>me,” the man said, pointing his un-bitten hand at Dani as he continued to whimper. He had the accent too.</p><p>   “For God’s sake, man! Why do you insist on being so utterly <em>useless</em>?!” The boy shouted, still facing Dani.</p><p>   The man let out a broken cry, keening miserably.</p><p>   "Miles!” Flora yelled from where she still stood at the car’s rear door. “Apologize to Peter at once!” The revelation of Flora’s accent was the most shocking—Dani had spoken with her at length and the child had sounded every bit a Yankee.</p><p>   Miles’ eyes closed on a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m <em>sorry</em>.”</p><p>   “That’s better. Honestly, Miles, there’s no need for all that.” She went to the man’s side and pulled his hand down, seemingly checking the spot where Dani had bitten and smoothing her own tiny hand over it.</p><p>   Her actions seemed to calm him and in the next moment the man called Peter closed in on Dani, pulling her back down the aisle of the car while the young boy Miles followed, his revolver at the ready.</p><p>   At the door Miles stepped around them, pointing the revolver up at Dani’s face. The gun dwarfed his tiny hands and he looked rather ridiculous holding it with his freckles and floppy hair. He was the farthest thing from dangerous that Dani had ever seen. But she’d witnessed what he could do with that gun and she didn’t have any interest in testing his patience again.</p><p>   “Listen carefully,” the boy said, “because I’m going to tell you exactly how tonight will proceed. Nod if you understand me.”</p><p>   Peter’s hand was clamped over her mouth to the point of pain, her eyes had begun to water, but she gave Miles the slightest nod.</p><p>   Miles nodded once in return. “We’re taking you from this train, and you’re to come willingly. Nod if you understand.”</p><p>   She gave another slight nod. Between the revolver and Peter’s iron grip what choice did she really have?</p><p>   “You’re to come quietly. Alerting anyone else will only mean more targets for my revolver. Nod if you understand.”</p><p>   She nodded. But in the back of her mind a plan was forming. If she could just find a way to alert the train workers outside on the track—Miles was a <em>child</em>, ten years old, eleven at most—surely he could be overpowered before he could cause undue harm.</p><p>   “If you fail to come willingly, if you fail to come quietly,” Miles was saying, “we will be forced to render you compliant. Flora?”</p><p>   On cue the little girl took a small bottle from the pocket of her dress skirt.</p><p>   “Chloroform,” Miles said. “They’re using it in all the surgeries now, both here and abroad. Just the tiniest whiff and <em>poof</em>,” he waved the revolver through the air before fixing it back on Dani, “you’re unconscious. Nod if you understand.”</p><p>   She nodded a final time and the little boy actually <em>smiled</em> at her, grinning like they’d just arrived at some sort of friendly agreement.</p><p>   "We best get going, then,” Miles said. “Flora, our belongings?”  </p><p>   Flora stepped around them to retrieve their carpet bag from the closet. The children stepped from the train first, jumping down to the dark tracks below without a moment’s hesitation. Dani was panicking again—leaving with them was the wrong choice, but what other choice <em>was </em>there? Her panic was manifesting as deadweight, she refused to take another step, refused to leave the safety of the train.</p><p>   With a loud grunt Peter merely picked her up, and before she could so much as wriggle in his grasp he’d jumped down with her onto the tracks. The children were rummaging through the carpet bag, pulling out items that Dani couldn’t see in the dark. There was shuffling and shifting—not just from the children but from Peter as well, still grasping her tightly as he shimmied, seemingly removing his waistcoat.</p><p>   Suddenly there was a gigantic <em>rip. </em>“I <em>despise</em>,” more ripping noises, “wearing dresses,” Flora said. “Next time <em>you</em> wear the dress.”</p><p>   That last sentence seemed to be meant for Miles, who chuckled as he pulled something else from the bag. A rope, Dani realized a moment later when he came over and tied her hands behind her back, as well as a rolled bandana that he slipped around her head after asking Peter to force her to her knees. She’d landed awkwardly, half on the wooden track and half on the rocky ground, and a starburst of pain exploded in her knee. He tied the bandana around her mouth tightly, the knot catching several loose strands of hair and yanking them from her scalp. The fabric forced into her mouth tasted of dirt and salt and sweat and she gagged. Her eyes were watering but this time they were actual tears. <em>Why?</em> Why was this happening to her? And how could children—seemingly well-mannered, well-bred, well-dressed <em>children</em>—be so cruel?</p><p>   The clouds moved in the sky and suddenly the moon slid out, its dusty light revealing more of the scene surrounding her. The dress and waistcoats lay in a tattered heap on the tracks and suddenly it was no longer an innocuous, respectable family standing there before her. Gone was the façade.</p><p>   They were wearing trousers, all of them—even the little girl—tucked into stiff, knee-high leather boots with pointed toes. The little girl was wearing a dirty shirt that seemed to have been shorn at the sleeves, leaving most of her arms bare, with a leather vest buttoned overtop. Both the boy and the man were wearing shirts reminiscent of Dani’s own white blouse, yet theirs were billowing and filthy, only partially buttoned and tucked haphazardly into their trousers. The man was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and, to Dani’s dismay, both children had leather holsters strapped around their waist—a revolver and a dagger each. In the moments after they’d discarded their proper clothing they’d taken some sort of black substance—grease, perhaps, or coal—and painted a row of streaks across their cheeks. They looked positively feral. <em>Outlaws. Bandits. Savages.</em>Dani’s stomach was churning. They meant to kill her, she was certain, even if the point and purpose eluded her.  </p><p>   “Ready?” Miles asked, and Flora nodded. “Peter, help Danielle, please.”</p><p>   Peter grabbed her around the arm and hauled her to her feet, forcing her to walk by his side as he followed Miles and Flora off the tracks and into the desert night, leaving their clothing—<em>costumes, </em>Dani corrected herself absently—behind on the tracks.</p><p>   A flurry of desperate thoughts flooded Dani’s mind—her belongings, would someone steal them or would someone turn them in at the next station? Edmund—would he know? Would he find out that she’d been <em>taken </em>or would he think she’d gotten lost? Taken the wrong train?</p><p>   They seemed to be headed for a collection of red boulders not far from the tracks, and as they walked Dani kept looking over her shoulder at the train, the flickering light of the workers’ lantern on the track in the distance at the opposite end of the locomotive. Even if she could scream it was unlikely they’d hear her from such a great distance.</p><p>   Peter pulled her along, following the children as they disappeared behind the rocks, and when Dani saw what was waiting for her she began to struggle in earnest.</p><p><em>   Horses. </em>Three horses, saddled and tethered to a piece of wood that had been secured to a cactus. Someone had planned carefully, and for the life of her Dani couldn’t understand <em>why</em>. She was a teacher, a wife—what could they possibly want from her? All she knew was if she let them force her onto a horse it was over. They’d disappear into the night and there’d be no hope for her rescue.</p><p>   Just then, in the distance, the train’s engine sputtered to life. The whistle blared, blasting into the night, long and lonely and it was the worst sound Dani had ever heard because the train was <em>leaving</em>. It was really happening. She’d been abducted by a band of <em>children</em>, well—children and Peter, who she had yet to figure out but still feared all the same, with his iron grip and strange guttural sounds. The train lurched forward, Dani could hear it grinding against the tracks and she panicked, wrenching out of Peter’s grasp and running back toward the tracks as fast as she could. Which, it turned out, was not very fast at all with her hands bound and her shoes impractical and her corset squeezing the life from her lungs.</p><p>   She’d barely made it ten feet when Peter caught up to her, dragging her back behind the rocks and throwing her down at the children’s feet. Miles was waiting with the revolver and Flora was waiting with the small bottle.</p><p><em>   No,</em> Dani cried into the bandana, <em>please</em>, but the words were lost in the filthy fabric now sodden with her spit and tears and even if they’d understood she knew they wouldn’t listen. Flora was uncorking the bottle, holding it well away from her own face as she stepped toward Dani.</p><p>   The little girl had the nerve to look concerned, that little wrinkle in her brow. “I’m awfully sorry for all this,” she said, ignoring Dani’s muffled cries of <em>please don’t</em>, “I meant what I said earlier. It’s unforgiveable, the way we’ve interrupted your evening.”</p><p>   She held the bottle beneath Dani’s nose, and the world went blissfully black.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   Dani woke to the sound of thunderous pounding. She fought down a wave of nausea. There was a churning queasiness in her stomach and a searing pain scorching the inside of her skull. Her eyelids felt heavy, everything felt foggy and surreal. By the light of the moon she could see the ground, but it looked to be miles away. And it looked like it was <em>moving. </em>Horseback, she realized. She was on horseback and the thunderous pounding was coming from the hooves. The rest came back in flashes. <em>The train. The</em> <em>children. The gun. The abduction. </em></p><p>   She forced herself to lift her head—it felt as though it weighed about as much as the horse beneath her, and the bandana tied around her head did little to help matters, the way it pushed into her mouth and cut into her head. Doubtless the bandana gag was the cause for her agonizing headache.</p><p>   Up ahead she could make out the form of a small child astride a light tan horse. <em>Flora. </em>To her right the other child Miles was astride a black horse. The horse beneath her appeared to be gray, and the solid wall of muscle behind her could only belong to Peter, who was keeping her upright with an arm around her waist.</p><p>   She shifted and the gag in her mouth shifted too, forcing the disgusting fabric deeper and she gagged, a wretched heaving that was followed immediately by an anguished sob because everything hurt and she just wanted to be back inside the train. Safe.</p><p>   She gagged again, a reflex now that she was awake and the fabric was pressing down on the back of her tongue. The hand around her waist loosened and suddenly the beefy hand that had been holding the reins in front of her moved to the back of her head, wiggling the knot of the bandana. In his efforts to loosen the fabric Peter also loosened her hair, which had been pinned back and proper not two hours earlier. It was a silly thought, Dani realized, to worry over her hair. To look down and see the stains on her beautiful lavender skirt, her clean white blouse, and feel anything but relieved that she was still alive to wear them. But all the same, there was a certain pang of sadness in seeing her clothing ruined. A sense of discomfort in knowing that with every stain, every un-pinned curl, her propriety was slipping away. That her <em>control </em>was slipping away. Had slipped away. Had been taken.</p><p>   The loose bandana slipped down over her chin, falling to hang around her neck. She took several deep breaths before turning to peer up at Peter.</p><p>   “Thank you.”</p><p>   He met her eyes quickly before looking away, nodding firmly several times. “Thank you.” He repeated. “Thank you.”</p><p>   She didn’t know what to make of him, and perhaps Miles realized her confusion because suddenly he’d brought his own horse in close, keeping pace beside them.</p><p>   “He’s like us,” Miles said, looking at Dani. “Peter, I mean. He’s a child, like us.”</p><p>   Dani felt herself frown at that, because for one thing there was nothing childlike about Miles <em>or </em>Flora.</p><p>   “He’s not a child, Miles,” Flora shouted from her horse ahead, “and you know you’re not to say that, she hit you for it the last time. He’s not a child, he’s a man. He’s just <em>different</em>.”</p><p>   “<em>Alright</em>, Flora,” Miles sounded annoyed before glancing back to Dani. “Peter’s different here,” Miles said, tapping his own head with a finger, “but not here,” he tapped his heart.</p><p>   Dani glanced over her shoulder at Peter, who blinked and smiled and looked away awkwardly.</p><p>   A family had passed through Cottonwood on their way west when Dani was a girl, they’d stayed the summer and every Sunday they’d attended her father’s church. They had a daughter, a girl a little younger than Dani, who didn’t speak yet couldn’t keep from making noises during sermons. The other children had ignored her, avoided her even, but being the preacher’s daughter Dani hadn’t had a choice, and she’d learned a lot about people that summer. And a lot about friendship. As it turned out, you didn’t necessarily need conversation to communicate, and, she’d learned, it was possible for two people to be wholly different and utterly the same in equal measure.</p><p>   Dani didn’t trust Miles and she didn’t trust Flora, but she was nearly certain there was some goodness in Peter. People who were different, people on the fringes—they were usually the most decent. The kindest. In Dani’s experience, anyway. And if she had any hope of escaping, Peter, she realized, was likely her best chance.</p><p>   “It’s good to meet you, Peter,” she said softly. “Even if it did happen to be against my will.”</p><p>   The horses galloped on and it felt like they’d crossed the entire desert, like when the sun rose they’d be staring at the waves of the Pacific. Dani was exhausted, and with the exhaustion came an unclenching of sorts—an inability to maintain the sense of blinding fear. As the night wore on the terror had begun to lessen into anger, and then even that faded and slipped into annoyance. It was uncomfortable to be on horseback for this long, and what’s more Dani was <em>hungry</em>, dinner was scheduled to be served on the train just after sundown and by now the passengers had long since eaten and likely settled down to sleep. She was going to ask where they were taking her. No—not ask, <em>demand</em> to know. Demand that they tell her what this was all about.</p><p>   She was just about to ask when suddenly Flora brought her horse to a halt up ahead, putting a hand in the air for the others to follow suit. The others slowed their horses, bringing them alongside Flora, flanking her. All was still and silent when Flora suddenly whistled, loud and bright, the sound carrying across the desert night.</p><p>   They waited as dark, silent second slipped by. Then, in the distance, someone whistled back.</p><p>   Flora’s horse reared up at the sound and in a strange moment Dani was terrified for the girl, her instinct was to gasp, scared that she might fall. But Flora barely flinched, she merely leaned forward into the horse’s neck as she peered into the night, seemingly more concerned with pinpointing the direction of the answered whistle than the horse teetering beneath her.</p><p>   “There, on that ridge.” Flora pointed into the dark. “I see the campfire.”</p><p>   Miles nodded before glancing over at Dani, doing a double take. “Blindfold her, Peter,” he said, tossing the man a wadded strip of fabric, “and tie the bandana back around her mouth. Make it tight.”</p><p>   “No—” Dani started, the panic returning full force, “there’s no need to blindfold me or gag me or to—to <em>bridle</em> me like a horse, I’m—I’m not going anywhere, I’m bound as it is!” She twisted to show Miles that her wrists were still tied. So tightly, in fact, that she could no longer feel her fingers.</p><p>   “Do it, Peter,” Miles barked, before arching an eyebrow at Dani. “Believe me,” he said, “it will be far worse for you if we turn up and you’re <em>not </em>gagged. Worse for all of us, actually.”</p><p>   Dani’s next breath stuttered as she held back a small cry. “Why are you doing this to me? What do you <em>want</em>?”</p><p>   But Miles just shook his head and said, “You’ll know soon enough.”</p><p>   Peter tied the bandana back in place, catching more of her hair this time, pulling it messily from its pins and making her scalp scream. Her eyes pricked and watered. She spotted where they were headed—a black ridge alight with a campfire’s glow—just as Peter slipped the strip of fabric over her eyes and tied it, rendering her completely helpless.</p><p>   The ground beneath the horses’ hooves changed, grew rockier, steeper as they headed up the ridge. The horses’ gaits were clumsy and uncoordinated, clicking and clacking against the rocks.</p><p>   Up and up they climbed. Dani could smell the fire as they drew closer to whatever fate awaited her, and soon after she could hear it. Snapping and popping. Finally the ground flattened, the horses no longer straining and struggling upward, and then they slowed to a stop altogether.</p><p>   “Took you long enough,” a new voice said. It was a woman’s voice, raspy and impatient, with a strange accent like the rest of them.</p><p>   “We got her here, didn’t we? All <em>you</em> did was start a little track fire,” Miles said defiantly, following it with a mumbled, “might try saying thank you.”</p><p>   The woman let out a dark chuckle.</p><p>   Dani could hear the children dismounting nearby and then suddenly Peter was dismounting behind her, hauling her down after him.</p><p>   “Where should we put her?” Flora asked softly.</p><p>
  <em>   Let me go. End this nightmare. Let me—</em>
</p><p>   “Set her there, by the fire,” Miles answered, “and tether your horse, Flora, you know better than to—"</p><p>   “Bring her here,” the new voice commanded calmly. Firmly.</p><p>   “The horse?” Miles asked.</p><p>   “The girl, you knob.”</p><p>   Then suddenly Dani was behind pushed from behind, stumbling blindly forward, tripping over her own feet and falling to her knees on the solid rock, feeling the exact moment her left knee split open. She winced away from the sharp pain of it, falling to her side, crumpling in on herself. She felt Peter’s strong hand wrap around her arm, pulling her upright until she was sitting up on her folded legs. He tugged down her gag and tore off her blindfold, taking the last of her hair pins with it, leaving her head an undignified mess. She blinked at the ground, letting her eyes adjust, everything around her lit by the fire’s orange glow.</p><p>   Standing there before her was a pair of black boots. <em>The woman</em>. Dani let her eyes travel up the boots to the woman’s knees where they met a pair of fitted brown trousers. A pair of leather suspenders were clipped to the trousers but rather than wearing them properly they hung uselessly down the sides of her thighs. She was wearing a dark linen shirt with a large leather belt and holster at her waist, the butt of a revolver sticking out, and there was a frayed and yellowing bandana tied in a loose triangle around her neck. Her dark hair was tied back but a single curl had come loose by her ear, betraying her otherwise perfect constitution and she was smoking—Dani’s eyes caught on the sharp angle of her jaw as the smoke plumed from her full lips.</p><p>   The woman’s face was cast in shadows beneath a black wide-brimmed hat, and when Dani finally caught sight of her eyes she swallowed a gasp because while the others had streaked their faces with coal dust this woman had rimmed her eyes in it—a thin smudge running around both perimeters. The effect was every bit as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. She was staring past Dani, gazing out at the dark expanse of desert beyond the little ridge.</p><p>   The woman blew out another plume of smoke. “Danielle O’Mara, is it?” She hadn’t even bothered to look at her when she'd asked.</p><p>   “Dani,” she spit back, mustering every molecule of dignity, ever modicum of bravery. Every ounce of ever-growing hatred toward these animals who’d captured her. “And <em>you</em> are?”</p><p>   Her sharp eyes flicked down to Dani’s once—just once—before she looked back out over the ridge. There was a flash of something—a smirk, the slightest upturn at the corner of the woman’s mouth and then it was gone, her features returning to steel. “In charge,” she said, throwing her cigarette to the ground, close enough to Dani’s already-ruined skirt that she had to scramble away or risk being set alight.</p><p>   Dani turned as best she could with her hands still tightly bound and her knee throbbing and starting to bleed through her skirt. She meant to send the woman a glare and maybe several choice words as well but she was walking away, sauntering into the night without sparing Dani so much as a second glance. When she’d reached the farthest edge of the fire’s glow the woman spoke once more without looking back.</p><p>   “Welcome to the West, <em>Dani</em>,” she muttered, and Dani could’ve sworn she heard a smile in her voice as she stepped into the darkness, disappearing completely, leaving Dani to wonder how the hell her day had ended <em>here</em> on this godforsaken ridge in the middle of the lawless desert, and what the hell she was going to do to escape.</p><p>   And she <em>would </em>escape, Dani decided, right then and right there. Because she’d left Cottonwood, Iowa and all of its oppressive rules and suffocating restraints behind for a reason, and she’d be goddamned if she was going to be anyone’s prisoner ever again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>     M:</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><br/>Dreamt you were here last night and now I can’t shake the feeling of judgment off my back. So I’ll tell it straight and then you can take your bleeding heart and stuff it because I won’t apologize for this. It’s a job, no different from washing traps on the docks the way we did years back. It’s a job, and I took it because I didn’t have a choice. It’s different out here. There’s nothing. Not like home where you can nick a loaf in the market if you’re proper starving and the baker’s back is turned. Here it’s different. And they’re depending on me. Peter’s fading away, he’s talking less and less and I don’t know what can be done for it. Some days he just stares, locked inside himself like. Flora’s fucking cough keeps coming back and she looks at me with those eyes so I tell her she’s fine, just the dry air is all, and she says <em>but what if it’s like the cough that took my mother?</em> And what the fuck can I say to that when I’ve been terrified thinking the same fucking thing? Then there’s Miles. Ten going on thirty, cheeky as all fuck and making me wish I’d left him behind on the boat some days. But he’s scared, I wager. Terrified they’re going to find us. Reckon we all are. Probably half the reason we seem to snap and bite at each other more often these days. The uncertainty of it all. Wandering around the goddamn desert. So last thing I need is your judgment when it comes to the girl. It’s a job. Means to an end is all. Besides, this one’s stiff as a fucking board—stodgy country girl, dull as a drape. You know the type. Reckon the experience will be good for her in the end. Fine, maybe <em>good for her</em> is a leap but trust me when I say this one’s due for a bit of excitement. Overdue, really. And long as everything goes to plan she’ll be back in her boring husband’s arms in a fortnight and we’ll be free of her. So there you have it. It’s a job, and I won’t apologize for it. </strong>
</p><p> <strong>-J</strong></p><p> </p><p>                           ~*~</p><p> </p><p>   Dani woke to a tickle scampering across her side. Her eyes flew open and it all came racing back. The train. The children. The abduction. And a lizard, spotted and yellow, perched atop her hip and staring at her with sharp eyes like it was trying to figure out what she was doing there, sleeping on the ground in the middle of its home. In her initial horror she’d leaned up from the ground as best she could with her hands still bound and now she was frozen like that, staring down the length of herself at the ungodly creature, afraid to take even the shallowest breath lest she tempt the fiend to—</p><p>   It darted closer, onto her stomach, and the noise that involuntarily launched itself from her throat was akin to a bridled scream, tethered by the fear that anything louder would spur the demonic thing to rip out her throat.</p><p>   “Don’t make another sound—”</p><p>   The whispered warning came from across the remains of last night’s fire, and Dani turned her head fractionally—one eye still on the lizard—to see the woman, sitting on a rock with a fountain pen and some sort of bound book. Dani wanted to know what would happen if she <em>did </em>make noise—perhaps the creature was poisonous? Deadly? There’d been urgency in the woman’s voice, and Dani realized that if her <em>captor </em>was concerned for the damage the beast could cause her then it was likely a monumental threat.</p><p>   Dani swallowed and nodded minutely, turning her full focus back to the lizard as she waited for the woman to do whatever it was she had planned to scare the creature away. The lizard cocked its head.</p><p>   Dani glanced over at the woman to see what was taking so long and found that the woman had gone back to writing in her book.</p><p>   “Are you—” Dani’s voice cracked and she swallowed again. “Aren’t you going to help me?”</p><p>   The woman stopped writing and blinked down at the page, looking annoyed at the interruption. “Help you what?” She started scribbling again.</p><p>   “With—with the <em>lizard</em>—” Dani whispered.</p><p>   The woman didn’t look up. “Just shoo it away.”</p><p>   “But you said—” <em>Oh God. </em>Its tongue was flickering and Dani could’ve sworn it looked amused by her terror. “You said not to make any noise—”</p><p>   “And yet that’s all you’ve done.”</p><p>   “Is it venomous? Will it bite me if I make a loud—”</p><p>   “Christ, it’s just a fuckin’ lizard,” the woman slapped the cover of her book closed and looked at the sky. It was an odd moment for Dani to notice how green her eyes were, with the sun lighting them and the coal contrasting. After seeming to rein in her temper she hissed at Dani once more from across the way. “It’s a lizard. Dumb as shite. Probably think’s you’re a rock. Just push it away, and for fuck’s sake be <em>quiet</em>. Let them sleep.” She nudged her head in the direction of Peter and the children, fast asleep in a pile by the fire’s ashes.</p><p>   Dani glanced from the children to the woman, from the woman back to the lizard. “How am I supposed to shoo it away without <em>hands</em>?” She could hear the bite in her own voice.</p><p>   Suddenly there was a familiar <em>click </em>across the fire and Dani’s head whipped around to find the woman aiming her revolver at Dani’s stomach, squinting one eye like she was about to shoot.</p><p>   “Wait!” Dani twisted away from the gun and the movement disturbed the lizard, sent it scampering away in a side-to-side undulation that would undoubtedly make an appearance in her nightmares. When she turned back, twisting around to face the woman, she found that she’d returned the gun to her holster and was calmly writing in her book again.</p><p>   “First thing you need to remember,” the woman said, still writing, “I like my mornin’s quiet.”</p><p>   Dani glared. “And I like my mornings <em>free.</em>”</p><p>   There it was again—that flash of amusement, that slight upturn at the corner of the woman’s mouth, so brief it could almost be dismissed as imagined.</p><p>   There was a great yawn from the pile near the ashes.</p><p>   “I’m hungry,” the boy, Miles, was sitting up.</p><p>   Dani glanced at the woman and was taken aback to find the woman looking at her, arching an annoyed eyebrow like it was <em>Dani’s </em>fault Miles had woken up. Like she was supposed to stay quiet when someone was cocking a gun and aiming for her. Like she was supposed to care at all about the children’s sleep or this lunatic’s <em>quiet morning</em> when the group of them were criminals depriving her of both her dignity and her freedom.</p><p>   The woman liked her mornings quiet? Good. Good to know. Dani <em>would </em>remember that. And she’d do everything in her power to raise holy hell every morning, as soon as the sun rose, every day until she found a way to escape.</p><p> </p><p>   Breakfast was a vile combination of salted meat and brackish water from two large canteens strapped to one of the horses. Dani hadn’t had a drop of water since the train and perhaps her thirst was palpable because as the children passed one of the canteens between them, Peter brought the other to Dani and held it up to her lips. She gulped and gulped for long moments, hardly caring that it was silty and strange tasting. But then the woman had caught sight of her frantic drinking and she’d shouted at Peter who’d instantly hugged the canteen to himself and looked at the ground, thoroughly chastised.</p><p>   “What,” Dani <em>glared</em>, “is wrong with you?”</p><p>   “Beg pardon?”</p><p>   “You yell at him for giving me a drink of water? For having a <em>heart</em>? You’ve had me out here all night, hands bound, nothing to eat or drink or—”</p><p>   “Canteen’s meant to be rationed, not poured down one singular greedy gullet all in one go.”</p><p>   “Everyone else was given water.”</p><p>   “Sips.”</p><p>   “I’m <em>thirsty</em>.”</p><p>   The woman’s lip curled around a snide laugh. “You’re in the fuckin’ desert, you twit. Want my advice? Make peace with bein’ thirsty.”</p><p>   “I don’t.”</p><p>   The woman turned. “What?”</p><p>   “Want your advice. About anything. You sleep on rocks in the middle of the desert like a snake and you kidnap women from trains so I’m not entirely certain what sort of advice you think you can offer that, if heeded, wouldn’t then be a grave detriment.”</p><p>   The woman stuck her bottom lip out, nodding thoughtfully. “Well. Could give you advice on how to <em>not </em>get kidnapped from a train to start with. Could give you advice about tellin’ lizards apart because the one you woke up to was harmless but the one that was hitched to your skirt not five minutes ago could’ve killed you with one bite.”</p><p>   Dani looked down at her skirt, twisted left and right in a blind horror to see if the creature was still there. When she found her skirt to be lizard-less she looked back at the woman, who wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement at Dani’s panic. </p><p>   “Could also give you advice on not takin’ just any drink that’s offered, case you’re actually bein’ offered water from the horse’s flask.” She pulled a large bowl from the saddle bag and took the canteen from Peter, dumping the rest of the water into the bowl and bringing it around to the horses.</p><p>   Dani felt her eyes bulge and then, as if on cue, her stomach surged and twisted.</p><p>   “Water from the horse’s canteen comes from the reserve.” The woman ran a hand over the gray horse’s nose before taking the bowl to the black horse and letting him drink. “Rainwater runoff, ‘s all it is. Perfectly fine for the horses.”</p><p>   “And…for us?”</p><p>   The woman shook her head. “Not nearly. You’re ridin’ with Peter. Already ruined my mornin’ with your natterin’, don’t need you to ruin my clothes with your vomit.”</p><p> </p><p>   Dani was ill. She was more nauseous than she could ever remember being, but as the others packed the saddlebags, milling about, readying themselves to go wherever they were taking her next, she found herself biting down on her tongue, willing the nausea away. She didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her sick. Seeing her more vulnerable, more pathetic than she already was, sitting there on a rock in a ruined skirt with her hands tied and her face turning greener by the moment.</p><p>   They set out on horseback and Dani fought the urge to gag with every bounce and bunch of the horse’s muscles beneath her. She had to hang on to some scrap of dignity, no matter how small, and she would not succumb to her roiling stomach. She refused. Even if it killed her.</p><p> </p><p>   Fifteen minutes later Dani found herself kneeling on the scorched ground, retching into a patch of tall dried grass. The woman had noticed when Dani attempted to hide her heaving behind a clamped jaw and a resolute face, or maybe it’d been the sweating that tipped her off—Dani’s entire face had rivers running down it, and when she’d noticed the woman had told Peter to help Dani down.</p><p>   After she’d thrown up everything in her stomach, which amounted to almost nothing at all, she continued to heave for long moments, using her shoulder to wipe sweaty strands from her face, her hands bound and numb behind her back. Finally, long moments later, when the nausea cleared and her stomach, for the moment at least, seemed settled, Dani sat back on her heels and blinked at the sky.</p><p>   “You set to keep movin’, then?” The woman called from atop her white horse, sounding impatient.</p><p>   “I need a minute,” Dani mumbled, staring straight ahead at a distant rock formation, her jaw clenched tight. She <em>hated</em> them. No—she hated <em>her.</em></p><p>   “What’s that?”</p><p>   Dani whirled around. “I need a minute!” She’d never screamed at anyone like that before, and for a split second the woman’s eyes went wide before her mask slipped back in place.</p><p>   “You’ve had a minute, we need to get goin’—”</p><p>   “<em>Where</em>?” Dani asked. “Where are you taking me? Why are you taking me there?”</p><p>   “Get back on the horse and find out.”</p><p>   “I won’t move until you’ve told me.”</p><p>   “Stay there and you’ll be dead by mornin’. You’re dehydrated and you’re exhausted—”</p><p>   “Because you <em>kidnapped </em>me!” Dani shouted.</p><p>   “Get,” the woman’s voice was low and measured, “on the horse.”</p><p>   “No.” Dani turned back to face the distant desert. There was quiet behind her, just the soft stamping of one of the horses. Then there were footsteps on the dry ground.</p><p>   “Get up.” The woman had pulled her revolver out, it was hanging in her hand. Not a threat—not yet—but there to intimidate, Dani figured.</p><p>   “Why? What’s the point?” Dani just kept staring straight ahead.  “So you can bring me somewhere else to kill me?”</p><p>   The woman narrowed her eyes. “If I was plannin’ to kill you I would’ve done so any number of times the thought has tempted me during our admittedly brief but immensely aggravatin’ time together.”</p><p>   Dani looked at her. The woman’s eyes were burning into her more ferociously than the white-hot sun. She’d never seen eyes like that before. It wasn’t just the coal smudging or the striking golden green, it was the anger. The fury in them. In any other situation Dani might’ve tried to reach out to the woman. Ask who had wronged her. But sitting there in the dry dirt, the cut on her knee reopened and bleeding through her skirt again, the only thought she had was that she wished whoever <em>had</em> wronged her had finished the job. Put her out of her misery and saved the rest of the world the unpleasantness of her company.</p><p>   Dani looked away. She was starting to feel lightheaded, the desert sun beating down from directly overhead. “My husband will come for me.” The thought had only just occurred to her then. She looked up at the woman. “My husband is the <em>mayor </em>of a town in California, he has sheriffs at his disposal,” well—that part she wasn’t precisely certain about, “and he’ll come for me. He’ll come.” She nodded to herself. “You won’t get away with this because he’ll come.”</p><p>   “Should fuckin’ hope so.”</p><p>   Dani turned then, looking up at the woman in surprise. The woman was holding her revolver up to the sun, squinting at it then rubbing at whatever spot she’d found with her shirt sleeve. When she was done she holstered the gun and took a strip of fabric from her back pocket.</p><p>   “Turn round.”</p><p>   “You’re blindfolding me again?” Dani could hear the weakness in her own voice. She was so tired. If she was to escape, the time was not now. She turned her head so the woman could blindfold her. “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>   “Can’t have you see where we’re headed, don’t want you comin’ back.”</p><p>   Dani had been asking <em>why </em>in the general sense—why the woman was doing <em>any </em>of it. But the woman’s reply sunk in and Dani felt a flash of relief. A surge of hope. “You’re going to let me go?”</p><p>   “Eventually. Why the fuck would I keep you?”</p><p>   “Why would I come <em>back</em>?”</p><p>   The woman ignored her, instead leaning down and grabbing her around the arm and hauling her to her feet. The sudden ferocity of it caught Dani off guard, had her stumbling. Her knee felt…wrong. It wasn’t just the bleeding, it felt swollen and it hurt to put her weight on it, like maybe she’d knocked something out of place. All at once her eyes were welling beneath the fabric because no one had ever been so wholly and unapologetically <em>mean</em> to her before. No one had ever hated her like this. Despised her without even knowing her.</p><p><em>   That’s not entirely true.  </em>The thought came unbidden and Dani shoved it back into the dark corner of her brain where she’d long been stashing similar unwelcome thoughts in a cluttered pile.</p><p>   The woman was pulling her back to the horses and Dani stumbled again—her knee really was in a bad way, and when she slipped from the woman’s grasp she fell to the ground, landing on her side atop a small jagged rock that stabbed through her blouse, breaking the skin beneath.</p><p>   “Christ,” the woman muttered, sounding annoyed and not in the least bit interested in helping her up.</p><p>   Dani couldn’t hold back a sob. <em>Is it fun?</em>  She wanted to scream.<em> Is it a form of amusement, seeing someone hurt and helpless?</em></p><p>   “Mean,” a deep voice said. “Mean. Mean. Mean. Mean.”</p><p>   Then Flora was speaking. “Peter’s right. You’re being needlessly cruel.”</p><p>   “’S that right?” The woman said. “You rather I bloody carry her like she’s an Egyptian queen?”</p><p>   “No,” Flora said patiently, “but you might try being decent towards her. She’s worried.”</p><p><em>   Worried.</em> Dani could’ve laughed.</p><p>   A moment passed.</p><p>   “Miles? Thoughts?” The woman asked.</p><p>   “Perhaps you’ve been a bit rough.”</p><p>   The woman made a thoughtful noise. “Mutiny then, is it? You lot think you could do better?”</p><p>   “Perhaps if you just explained things to her,” Miles said, “she’d be more cooperative.”</p><p>   “Explained things,” the woman echoed.</p><p>   “That’s right,” Miles said, “tell her what’s happening so she doesn’t fear the worst.”</p><p>   Remarkably, the woman seemed to be considering it. Dani could sense her shifting on her feet beside her, likely looking down at her, weighing her options. And then she was squatting down on bended knees, pushing the blindfold up onto Dani’s forehead.</p><p>   They were eye to eye for the first time, and for a moment they just stared at one another.</p><p>   Then the woman’s eyes squinted slightly. “If I tell you what’s goin’ on, why we’ve taken you and the like, will you stop fightin’ it?”</p><p>   “Absolutely not,” Dani said before she could stop herself. Of course she wouldn’t stop fighting this woman—what explanation could she offer that would make Dani go willingly into captivity?</p><p>   The woman glared at her and then stood, sending Miles a pointed look. “I tried.” She slid the fabric back over Dani’s eyes.</p><p>   Suddenly there was a rustling, someone was dismounting. Flora, Dani realized a moment later when the young girl kneeled beside her.</p><p>   “We won’t hurt you,” she said softly. “I see your leg is wounded—I’m terribly sorry for that. Once we’re back in Bly we can tend to you, we’ve got all sorts of salves and things.”</p><p>   “Why? Why did you take me?” It must have been the hundredth time Dani had asked.</p><p>   There was a pause as Flora shifted—perhaps looking to the woman for permission, which was apparently granted because a moment later Flora told her.</p><p>   “It’s all rather simple, really. We took you for ransom. Your husband will be alerted to your situation and he’ll pay to have you returned.”</p><p>   Dani thought about it. She was relieved, on some level. Of course Edmund would pay whatever sum they asked of him. But then— “How did you know my name? On the train—”</p><p>   “Your letters,” Flora said, as though the answer was obvious.</p><p>   “Letters?”</p><p>   “The ones you’ve sent your husband. That’s how we found you. How we knew you’d be on the train.”</p><p>   “You stole my letters?”</p><p>   “Borrowed!” Flora said loudly, sounding offended. “We only read them, we never kept them. We had to, otherwise we might’ve kidnapped someone unattached, or someone poor. And that would be a perfectly ridiculous waste of everyone’s time.”</p><p>   “How long?” Dani asked. “How long until you contact Edmund?”</p><p>   “Letter’s already been sent,” the woman said gruffly.</p><p>   “Before you even had me,” Dani said flatly. “Arrogant.”</p><p>   “Confident.”</p><p>   Dani let out a humorless laugh.</p><p>   “So you see,” Flora said, “it really won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you. You’ll be our guest at Bly for a fortnight and then you’ll be free again. And you’ll <em>love </em>Bly, it’s really quite extraordinary—”</p><p>   “A <em>fortnight</em>?” Dani could barely stand to imagine another hour with these people, never mind two weeks.</p><p>   “Or thereabout,” the woman said. She wrapped a hand around Dani’s upper arm, hauling her to her feet once again, but this time there was restraint in her touch. She wasn’t gentle—far from it, in fact—but she wasn’t cruel.</p><p> </p><p>   Time passed strangely for Dani as they rode, the day measurable only by the sunlight filtering in through the blindfold. She fell asleep at one point, sitting sidesaddle, sagging against Peter’s strong chest, only to be awoken by a shooting pain in her knee when the horse stumbled, forcing her to reposition herself. Awake again, her mind was buzzing. It was as though the blindfold had taken her sight only to heighten everything else—she could hear the horse’s every breath, hear the screeching of birds circling distantly overhead as if they were flying beside her. And the smells—dried mud had a distinct odor, she was learning, and it was a musty scent like something left in a closet for too long. Peter smelled too. Like sweat—they all did, surely, the sun was unbearable—but also perhaps like milk, like something warm and familiar.</p><p>   At one point, out of sheer and utter boredom, Dani’s fingers found the ridge of the horse’s neck and she rubbed small strokes against its sweaty fur. She twined a lock of mane around a finger and then to pass the time she started to blindly braid it.</p><p>   “Silver,” Peter said suddenly.</p><p>   “Silver?” Dani tilted her head.</p><p>   Peter put his hand over hers, pressing it against the horse’s neck. “Silver.”</p><p>   “Silver—” Dani shook her head, but then suddenly she understood. “The horse’s name is Silver?”</p><p>   Peter made a happy humming noise and Dani smiled despite herself.</p><p>   “Silver is a beautiful horse, Peter.”</p><p>   “Beautiful horse,” he repeated, sounding pleased.</p><p>   There was a story there, Dani was certain. There had to be a story—why this gentle giant of a man was running around the desert with the woman. And the children—Dani couldn’t begin to guess how they fit in. Perhaps they were the woman’s children. She looked to be older than Dani—closer to thirty if she had to guess. It was possible the children were hers. But how strange for a mother to let her children participate in criminal activity. How strange for children to be committing crimes at all.</p><p>   Peter shifted behind her and the movement jostled her head, causing the blindfold to dip, making it possible for her to see over the top of it. Dani blinked in the sudden white radiance. How the horses were able to carry on for hours in the painful heat without complaint Dani could not understand. They seemed to be on a path of sorts, a trail carved through dry grass, rock formations and cacti on either side. The woman was at the front of the group, sitting tall in the saddle and holding the reins with one hand, letting the other rest at her side. Miles and Flora were in the middle, skillfully leading their horses over the terrain like they’d been bred for it. They were from somewhere else, their accents were undeniable, but perhaps they were from someplace similar. Somewhere equally unforgiving where they’d had to learn these skills early. How to ride a horse. How to shoot a gun. How to lie to a woman on a train.</p><p>   More time passed. Quicker now that Dani could distract herself with the passing scenery. Some of the cacti were lovely, decorated with purple blossoms sprouting forth. Every now and then she’d spot a lizard basking. The shadow of a large bird passing overhead, wings outstretched.</p><p>   The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, midafternoon by Dani’s estimate, and they were coming up fast on a small range of mountains. Suddenly Flora was shouting.</p><p>   “I see it! Can we race back?”</p><p>   “To the gate but no further,” the woman said, “don’t go in til I’ve done a sweep.”</p><p>   “I’ll do the sweep,” Miles said, pulling his revolver out and holding it up with a bent arm.</p><p>   The woman twisted in the saddle to face him, looking distantly annoyed with her jaw square and her brow knit. “You lookin’ to make this an argument?”</p><p>   “No,” Miles shrugged, “but I don’t think it’s fair we need to be scared of our own home—”</p><p>   “’S not our home.” The woman dismissed the idea with a quick flick of her head. “’S temporary. And if I say don’t go in til I’ve done a fuckin’ sweep, what do you say?”</p><p>   Miles shrunk an inch. “Yes ma’am.”</p><p>   “Flora? I’m askin’ you both—”</p><p>   “Yes ma’am.”</p><p>   “Right then. Count of three. One—Miles! You can’t just—well, go on Flora, no point in a countdown now.”</p><p>   Flora took off after Miles, their horses kicking up a cloud of dust as they raced across the terrain.</p><p>   Dani saw the back of the woman’s head shake and it looked like she’d chuckled. <em>Chuckled</em>. Like she was capable of an emotion outside of anger. Like she enjoyed them, like there was some sort of affection there. Dani circled back to the thought that maybe they <em>were</em> her children. The only thing she was certain of was that, whatever the situation was, it was decidedly bizarre.</p><p>   As they drew closer to the gate their destination came into view. It was a small settlement at the base of the mountain range, rocky cliffs rising just beyond a meagre scattering of wooden structures. There was a small water tower of weathered wooden boards standing taller than any of the other buildings and a large wooden fence that seemed to encircle the entire cluster of buildings. The gate the children were waiting beneath was a tall wooden frame that punctuated the large wooden fence, offering what appeared to be the only entryway into the little town. There was a sign at the top of the gate, iron letters that had been painted red at one time but were now chipped and rusting. The sun had bleached the wood around the letters, making it apparent the name of the town had once been Warbly, but half the iron letters had fallen off and all that remained was a crooked <em>bly</em>.    </p><p>   They waited by the gate while the woman rode into the settlement. She returned several minutes later, declaring it <em>all</em> <em>clear</em>, which seemed to relieve Miles quite a bit.</p><p>   Their small caravan passed beneath the entry in single file, the woman leading them down what must have been the town’s main street at one time. There were square houses at the edge of the town, simple boxes of warped planks, bleached by the sun and most of them open to the elements—their roofs collapsed or their siding missing.  </p><p>   It was a horror—a derelict ghost town in the middle of the scorched wilderness, and Dani was expected to <em>live </em>here until Edmund paid their fee? It was too much. It wasn’t only criminal it was infuriating, the idea that this woman had plucked her from safety and comfort, from her well-planned <em>schedule</em>, just to stash her away in the desert. That she expected Dani to live like this—like a rodent in a scrap pile. As though Dani’s life as a wife and teacher mattered less than whatever sum they were requiring.</p><p> </p><p>   Dani took in the layout of the town like a brittle sponge dropped in a bucket of water. There was no telling if the woman would suddenly notice that the bandana had slipped, no knowing if she planned on keeping Dani blindfolded the entire time she was held captive. Dani intended to capitalize on her vision now, commit the settlement to memory, come up with a plan.</p><p>   But as they approached the central portion of the settlement Dani’s careful cataloguing gave way to momentary astonishment. It <em>was </em>a ghost town—abandoned long ago by the look of it, likely after failed efforts to mine the adjacent mountain range. But somebody—the woman, perhaps, or maybe all of them together, had taken the broken parts and pieced them together to make something wholly unlike anything Dani had ever seen before. There were five buildings at the center of town and their placement formed a circle of sorts—three adjoining structures curved around on one side of the circle, the water tower and two other buildings mirroring them on the other. A two-story saloon, a jailhouse, a bank. The other two structures bore no signage but they were decidedly larger than houses—stores, at one time, perhaps.</p><p>   But the remarkable thing about the town was not the old buildings with their weathered clapboard and sun-bleached wood—it was everything that had been built between them, around them, even on them. Someone had taken scrap wood, warped and old, and used it to build walkways across the small circle, flat bridges with railings that led from roof to roof, veranda to veranda, stairway to window. From the balcony of the saloon to the water tower platform where a telescope was bolted into the rail. Here and there large wooden beams had been shoved precariously beneath the various walkways to keep them aloft. It was as if they’d built it this way to avoid ever having to walk on the ground—a miniature city accessible wholly by sky bridge. And there was more—Dani couldn’t take it in fast enough—ladders and ropes and pulleys rigged to doors and buckets, a miner’s cart tethered by the water tower but resting on a track that led across the way to the balcony of the saloon. There were glass jars, maybe a hundred of them, identical to the ones Dani’s mother filled with preserves each summer, all of them held in place by lengths of twine around the neck, either set along the railings of the sky bridges or hanging down beneath.</p><p>   It wasn’t a town it was a <em>playground</em>, a fantasy world tailormade to suit them. In any other circumstance Dani might’ve been impressed. Eager, even, to explore. Truthfully in some way she <em>was</em> impressed. The slightest bit curious about this place, even while imagining the many ways she could destroy it, burn it to the ground given some oil and a matchstick.</p><p>   They dismounted in the middle of the dusty circle, the tracks and skybridges crisscrossing overhead. Miles and Peter led the horses away, the woman calling after them to remind them to wipe the animals down, cool them off before feeding them.</p><p>   The woman then turned her focus to Dani, pulling off the blindfold and not seeming to realize it hadn’t been foolproof.  </p><p>   “This is Bly. ‘S where we live,” she said simply.</p><p>   She led Dani to the saloon by the arm with Flora following close behind. When Dani hissed on the wooden stairway leading up to the saloon’s front porch the woman glanced at her, then looked down at Dani’s ruined skirt.</p><p>   “I’ve got a salve. Will take the pain away. Soon as you’re settled—”</p><p>   Dani let out a sharp laugh and the woman’s head turned, her sharp gaze boring into her.</p><p>   “Somethin’ funny?”</p><p>   Dani’s lips were twitching as she faced the woman, nodding wholeheartedly. “Hilarious, really. You say <em>settled </em>as though I’m checking into an inn for a relaxing stay. You say you have a salve to take the pain away as though it isn’t directly your fault there’s pain to begin with.”</p><p>   “I’m tryin’ to be <em>decent</em>—” the woman growled, stopping suddenly when she looked down at Flora.</p><p>   Dani glanced at Flora too, and the little girl was subtly shaking her head at the woman.</p><p>   “What she means to say,” said Flora, now looking at Dani, “is that she’s terribly sorry for your injury, it was rude and reckless of her to treat you so miserably and she knows she’s been abominable.”</p><p>   “’S not what I mean to say at all—”</p><p>   “<em>And</em>,” Flora said loudly, speaking over the woman, “as an apology you’ll join us for dinner. Miles makes a lovely stew—”</p><p>   “I don’t want to join you for dinner,” Dani said, even as her stomach clenched in hunger.</p><p>   Flora looked hurt but the woman nodded firmly as though that settled things.</p><p>   “Perfect,” she said, dragging Dani into the saloon, a dark room full of tables and random pieces of upholstered furniture, “more food for us.”</p><p>   Another pang of hunger wracked Dani’s empty stomach. “You can’t starve me. If Edmund is to pay a ransom then it’s in your best interest to keep me <em>alive</em>.”</p><p>   “Not plannin’ to starve you,” the woman said, pulling Dani to a wooden stairway in the corner and hauling her up it one step at a time. “Just not interested in <em>dining </em>with you. Puttin’ up with you more than strictly necessary—”</p><p>   Dani laughed again, louder this time, and then she was raising her voice, exhausted and beyond annoyed. “An excellent way to avoid <em>putting up</em> with someone is to <em>not kidnap them in the first</em>—”</p><p>   Suddenly the woman pushed Dani against the railing, leaned in close, their eyes mere inches apart. “You’re kidnapped. It’s done. Adapt.”</p><p>   It would have been easier for Dani to look away. The woman’s eyes were cold and angry, intense and unusual with their smoky rims. It would have been easier to look away, but Dani refused. She stared back, calm and cool. The moment stretched between them, unblinking glares locked on one another as if being the first to look away would mean conceding weakness.</p><p>   When it was done, when the woman finally backed off and began hauling Dani farther up the steps, Dani found that in addition to <em>cold </em>and <em>angry </em>and <em>intense</em> the word <em>stunning </em>had crept into her brain unbidden. She tried to will it away but there was nothing to be done for it, the word had already taken root. Yes, the woman was irrationally monstrous and yes, she was immensely loathsome, but she was also—though it pained Dani to admit it—undeniably stunning.</p><p>   But it was of little consequence. The woman was quite clearly deranged and besides, Dani reminded herself, she’d moved past all of that. Cut that part out of her like a cancer and left it behind in Iowa. It had only ever caused pain. Only ever bound her to something forbidden and impossible, its bindings far tighter than those currently strangling her wrists. She’d come out west to start over—to be free of the past, free of <em>herself. </em>Which was why, she decided right then, words like <em>stunning </em>would be reserved for things deserving of such an accolade. Sunsets, for instance. The Pacific Ocean, which she could hardly wait to see. And her husband, of course. Perhaps not <em>stunning </em>but beautiful in his own way. Sensible. Steady. <em>Sanctioned</em>, her mind supplied rebelliously. <em>All you’ll ever be allowed.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   They brought her to the first room at the top of the stairs. A plain square with a small bed and an even smaller window. Flora had opened the door with a flourish and declared it <em>perfectly splendid</em>, as if it were some sort of honor to be imprisoned within its plain walls.</p><p>   The woman had stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and explained how it would work—Dani’s captivity. Her hands would be unbound during the day but restrained at night while everyone slept. Meals would be brought to her in the room and the children would walk her to the outhouse three times a day. If she had need of anything else there was a small rope by the door that she could tug to ring a bell downstairs.</p><p>   “Don’t ring it less you’re moments from death,” the woman had said, “or next time we won’t bother answerin’.”</p><p>   And then they’d left her, untied at long last, to sit on the edge of the creaky bed and rub the life back into her arms.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   Some time later she woke to laughter downstairs. She hated that she’d fallen asleep—it felt like a surrender somehow, but then after a restless night spent on desert rock perhaps a nap was forgivable.</p><p>   The sun was setting and the room was bathed orange, the small window looked as if it’d been dipped in fire. Dani went to look out at the sunset, thinking to ascertain a vague sense of their location. The sun was setting just to the left of the water tower, and in the distance there was a soaring rock formation, a gigantic boulder balanced atop a tall skinny one, backlit by the orange glow. <em>Due west.</em> That was where she would head, first chance she had. She committed the rock formation to memory until she was certain she could recreate it on paper if asked.</p><p>   Satisfied that she had at least the stirrings of a plan in mind she let her shoulders relax for a moment, and let her eyes settle the scene outside the window. It was...well, it was lovely, really, even if she’d die before admitting anything of the sort to <em>them. </em>Someone had placed candles in every last jam jar and lit them—the skybridges were aglow with the flickering lights, all along the rails and dangling beneath. The effect was enchanting. There was a bonfire in the middle of the circle, Peter and the woman were standing by it while the children stirred a large kettle. Mile’s stew, most likely. Dani’s stomach growled and she glanced at the rope for the bell. <em>Moments from death. </em>She rolled her eyes and sat back down on the bed to wait.  </p><p>   Suddenly there was a noise in the distance. So far in the distance that the sound could have easily been swallowed by the bed’s creak or the children’s laughter downstairs. But as it happened the noise had carried without interruption and it was a long and lonely sound.   </p><p>   Dani’s heart stuttered. <em>The train</em>.</p><p>   She was back at the window in seconds, peering past the buildings, out across the town, squinting at the darkening horizon. She couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t even begin to guess which direction the sound had come from. But she <em>had </em>heard it. The train. Or <em>a </em>train, at least, a chance to be carried away from this place. And if she was close enough to train tracks to hear the train’s blare then she was close enough to follow the sound to freedom. There was a warmth spreading across her chest. <em>Hope</em>. She could do it—no, she <em>would</em>—she would find her moment and she would escape.</p><p> </p><p>   No one came to her door until much later. There was a soft knock and then the key turned in the lock and Miles’ face was poking around.</p><p>   “Flora’s insisting that you join us for dinner,” Miles said pleasantly. It was alarming, truly, how casually the children had taken to hosting a captive. Dani wondered if they’d had practice. Perhaps collecting ransoms was something of a hobby.  </p><p>   “I don’t want to join you,” she said flatly, watching the boy’s brow crinkle in confusion.</p><p>   “But you must be hungry? It’s been ages since—”</p><p>   “I’m starving,” Dani said, “but I’d like to eat here, thank you. Away from,” <em>her</em>, “everyone else.”</p><p>   “Oh,” the boy said, nodding but looking distinctly disappointed, “of course. I’ll fetch you a bowl.”</p><p>   Dani listened to him lock the door and clomp playfully back down the rickety saloon stairway. Moments passed and then there were footsteps on the stairs again, though this time they were heavy and measured.</p><p>   The lock turned. The door opened.</p><p>   “Get up,” the woman barked, before the door was even finished opening.</p><p>   “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”</p><p>   “Get up or go hungry.”</p><p>   Dani’s stomach growled. “Then hungry it is.” <em>Damnit. </em>Damn her pride. She was <em>starving. </em>But she could last the night if it meant standing up to this tyrant.</p><p>   The woman tipped her head back and looked up, taking several short breaths like she was searching the ceiling for a scrap of patience. “The children,” she said, not looking at Dani, “have,” she pursed her lips and shook her head at the wall, “<em>prepared</em> dinner,” she arched an eyebrow and flicked her gaze to Dani, “for <em>you. </em>They’ve worked hard and it would be rude to disappoint them.” And then her arms were crossing again and she was frowning at the floor, waiting.</p><p>   Dani just stared for a moment before a giggle forced its way out. The sound had the woman’s cutting glare on her once again.</p><p>   “Sorry—” Dani ran her hands up and over her face, pushing her messy hair back, “are you—are you completely insane?”</p><p>   “<em>No</em>, I—”</p><p>   “People <em>prepare </em>dinners for friends, for company, for family—not for—I’m not <em>joining </em>you for dinner,” she squinted at the woman, shaking her head, “we’re not <em>friends</em>—”</p><p>   “Bloody right we’re not, but it’s not me that’s askin’, and it’s rubbish to go about punishin’ the children when they’re not the ones who took you—”</p><p>   “By definition they <em>are</em>—”</p><p>   “And they feel poorly for it!” The woman shouted, taking Dani aback. “’S not their fault I asked it of them.”</p><p>   Dani sighed. On that, at the very least, they could agree.</p><p>   Dani thought about it, and an idea occurred to her. “I want to be allowed time outside during the day. An hour at least.”</p><p>   “Beg pardon?”</p><p>   “If I come down to dinner I want your word that I’ll be permitted to stretch my legs, to walk around the town for a little while each day.”</p><p>   To Dani’s utter shock the woman seemed to be considering it.</p><p>   “One hour,” the woman said. “Your hands will be tied and you won’t be alone—Peter or the children, someone will escort you. ”</p><p><em>   Escort. </em>The ease with which they all employed these euphemisms was nothing short of mind-boggling. Dani sighed. “Fine. Those terms are…agreeable.” They weren’t, of course. She had no interest in being walked like a dog. But if she was to escape she needed to seek out every chance, every window in which the opportunity might present itself. Even if it did mean giving her pride as collateral.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   The stew was maddeningly delicious and it took great effort to take measured bites, spoonfuls, rather than tipping the bowl to her mouth and swallowing it all at once.</p><p>   “Jackrabbit,” Miles said proudly as he watched Dani eat, “I shot it and skinned it myself.”</p><p>   He could’ve said it was rattlesnake and it wouldn’t have made a difference, Dani was famished. They had untied her once she’d settled into one of the chairs they’d dragged from the saloon to set out by the fire. They’d brough out a small table too, and the children had proudly arranged a macabre centerpiece atop its uneven surface—a miniature cactus and several small animal skulls.</p><p>   The woman was smoking, both slouched and sprawled on a nearby velvet settee and Dani fought down a wave of admiration at how freely this woman embraced all things unladylike. Peter was sitting next to her and the children were flittering here and there, serving food to all.</p><p>   Once the sun had finally dipped below the horizon the remarkable display of jar lights had transformed the town circle from enchanting to downright <em>magical</em>. Loathe though she was to admit it, Dani was enthralled. Sitting below the crisscrossed sky bridges, the flickering lights scattered along their railings and suspended underneath, it was almost like someone had hooked the starry night sky and pulled it down to earth.</p><p>   The children had long since finished their own bowls of stew and had moved on to a game of tag around the bonfire. Peter was playing with the same object he’d had on the train—a stuffed toy, by the look of it, strips of fabric wound and fashioned to resemble a horse. Dani watched him walk the horse across his leg, watched him clutch it tightly when Flora dashed by, as though protecting it. Her heart clenched at his gentleness and she found herself wondering yet again who these strange people were.</p><p>   She felt someone watching her and her eyes moved from Peter to the woman. She was watching Dani from beneath the wide-brimmed hat she had yet to take off. She’d changed her clothes—<em>must be nice</em>, Dani mused. Her own ruined clothing would be good for nothing but the furnace after this ordeal. The woman had changed into a navy shirt, several of the top buttons unclasped, and without the bandana tied around her neck the hollows of her collarbone were on full display. Her sleeves had been rolled several times, exposing her forearms, and she was wearing a brown vest, buttoned and fitted. As she stared the firelight played across her features and Dani couldn’t read the look on her face. Just then Miles tripped, falling a little too close to the flames and the woman’s attention turned to scolding him softly with a chuckle.</p><p>   Miles ignored her in favor of spinning around and chasing after Flora again, darting here and there around the fire. Flora was standing near Dani now, sticking her tongue out at Miles and wiggling her hands by her ears, taunting him. Miles starting running one way around the fire and Flora took off in the opposite direction, only for Miles to spin around and catch up with her from the opposite direction. Flora screeched gleefully as he grabbed her around the waist and they both fell to the ground, laughing and shrieking.</p><p>   There was a freedom to their interactions that Dani had never seen before. Even amongst her youngest students. There was a rigidity to Cottonwood that was wholly absent in this little town in the middle of the desert. And for the life of her Dani could not decide whether she was fascinated or appalled.</p><p>   Flora stood, shaking off the tackle and was about to tear off after Miles, and that was when it happened. Almost in slow motion, or so it seemed. Flora’s knife, knocked loose in their wrestling, fell from its sheath to the ground, bouncing on its hilt just once before coming to rest by Dani’s feet. She glanced around. Nobody had noticed.</p><p>   When she bent to retrieve it she did so quickly, pretending to fix her boot beneath her skirt. She didn’t look up, she didn’t dare breathe for fear of being caught, but in the end it was all rather easy—how quickly she was able to slip the knife into the side of her boot and sit back, not a single soul the wiser.</p><p>   When the children were panting, tired from their chasing, they settled side by side into the wooden chair across the small rickety table that had been set out for Dani.</p><p>   “Tell me Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said with a grin, “are you <em>really </em>a school teacher?”</p><p>   “Of course I am,” Dani said, perhaps a bit abrasively. Did the child just assume that everyone in the world was a liar?</p><p>   “How extraordinary,” Miles was saying, “I hope to see what that’s like one day.”</p><p>   Dani couldn’t help a small smile. “You’d like to be a teacher?” How wonderfully…<em>normal</em>.</p><p>   But Miles shook his head. “I’d like to go to school.”</p><p>   “You—” Dani glanced between their earnest faces, “you’ve never attended school?”</p><p>   “Of course not, silly,” Flora said, “how could we when we’ve only ever—”</p><p>   “Flora.” Miles eyed her before fixing a smile on his face and turning to Dani. “We’ve not yet had the pleasure.”</p><p>   Dani glanced over her shoulder at the woman, who was now leaning forward towards the flames, her legs apart and her elbows resting on her knees. She wasn’t paying them any attention. Dani turned back to the children, lowering her voice.</p><p>   “How…well, <em>why</em>—where—" So many questions, all of them swirling in her mind, and she was worried this would be her only chance to ask. She settled on a statement instead. “You’re not from…here. From this country.”</p><p>   Flora shook her head agreeably. “Not at all, we’re from—”</p><p>   “<em>Flora.</em>” Miles voice was firm.</p><p>   Dani raised a shoulder, tried to muster a casual smile. “I’m just curious. I’ve never met anybody from…”</p><p>   “London?” Flora supplied helpfully.</p><p>   “London.” Dani smiled, feeling minorly triumphant. Miles glared. He knew what she was doing but it didn’t deter her. “And how did you come to be here?”</p><p>   “It doesn’t matter,” Miles said, “<em>where </em>we came from or <em>why </em>we’re here. Flora,” he looked at the little girl, “what’s the rule?”</p><p>   She looked down, suddenly sullen. “If you’re going to tell the truth bring a shovel.”</p><p>   “A shovel?” Dani looked between them.</p><p>   “To dig your grave,” Miles said, an eyebrow raised.</p><p>   Dani shook her head, suddenly shocked and a little bit angry. “That’s an absolutely horrendous way to live,” she said. “Did—” She glanced over at the woman, still staring into the flames, then leaned toward the children, lowering her voice further, “did <em>she </em>teach you that?”</p><p>   “Of course.” Miles narrowed his eyes. “She’s taught us everything.”</p><p>   “And Peter?”</p><p>   “She’s taught Peter too,” he said.</p><p>   That wasn’t what Dani had been asking, but it was another answer all the same. “Is she…your mother?”</p><p>   That earned a hearty laugh from them both.</p><p>   “Generous of you to entertain them,” the woman said, suddenly standing behind them, eyeing Dani suspiciously. “Care to share the joke? Could use a laugh myself.”</p><p><em>   Right. </em>Dani was fairly certain if this woman were to laugh the world itself would implode in confusion. She shrugged. “Just getting to know my captors.”</p><p>   The woman glared down at Miles and his shoulders hunched. “We didn’t tell her anything,” he said softly.</p><p>   The woman leaned over the table looking back and forth between the children a moment longer, her stare intense as though trying to ascertain exactly what Dani had spoken to them about. And then she straightened, nodding her head toward the saloon.</p><p>   “’S bedtime,” she said.</p><p>   Miles looked disgusted. “It most certainly is <em>not</em>, we don’t have a—”</p><p>   “You do tonight.”</p><p>   “That’s not fair!” Miles raised his voice, slamming a fist down on the small table, making the tiny skulls bounce. “<em>You’re </em>all staying up!”</p><p>   “What of it?” The woman shot back. “We’re not children.”</p><p>   Miles glared up at her. “<em>Peter</em>—”</p><p>   “Peter <em>what</em>?” She said, and the tension was palpable, Dani could feel it crackling in the air.</p><p>   It was obvious Miles was debating whether or not to continue down that road. In the end he shook his head at the woman, grinding out his words through gritted teeth. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re <em>not </em>my mother.”</p><p>   “No,” the woman shook her head at the ground and she let out a sniff of a laugh, dry and callous, “but your mother’s dead and I’m all you’ve got.”</p><p>   Dani looked at the woman then, she couldn’t help the way her head whipped up in shock. To speak to a <em>child</em> that way. About his departed mother no less! Something was wrong with her, something was lacking. Goodness and decency. Basic humanity.</p><p>   The boy’s rage, so visceral not a moment prior, had all at once given way to a stony blank stare, the angry lines of his brow softening from furious to thoughtful—the sort of thoughtfulness that accompanies a cluttered mind. A mind busy with sweeping unwanted thoughts into dark corners. Dani knew that look. She’d had students with that look. She’d seen that look in the mirror.</p><p>   There was a slight movement between the two children—Flora, moving to squeeze Miles’ hand beneath the table.</p><p>   Dani bit the inside of her cheek to keep from feeling anything else, but it was a losing battle. Criminals though they were, they were also <em>children</em>. Dani loved children. And any person capable of even a small flutter of empathy could see that they were hurting.</p><p>   The woman’s arms were crossed over her vest, her jaw firmly set. Her gaze flicked down to the children once before looking past them. “Go to bed.”</p><p>   This time there was no argument. They got up and silently crossed to the saloon, hand in hand.</p><p>   When they’d gone inside the woman slid into the empty chair, elbows on the table, her hands folded by her mouth as she peered at Dani. Sizing her up, it felt like. The knife burned against Dani’s ankle like a brand. And perhaps it was the fear of being caught with it—the awareness that sooner or later Flora would realize the knife was missing—that spurred Dani to suddenly confront the woman.</p><p>   “You shouldn’t be so mean to them.” She looked the woman in the eyes, lifted her chin, daring her to disagree.</p><p>   The woman’s mouth curled into a half smile behind her hands, amusement dancing with the fire’s reflection in her eyes.</p><p>   Dani swallowed. “Children can be unruly after..." she searched for the words, "a loss. You should be kinder to them."</p><p>   The woman's eyes narrowed slightly but her half smile remained, and she said nothing.</p><p>   A moment later Peter was standing, muttering something about wanting to go to sleep and heading for the saloon. The woman walked Dani inside the saloon after him, leaving the fire to burn out on its own.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   Dani waited until late that night, when she was certain everyone else was long asleep. The ropes around her wrist were surprisingly easy to slice through after a bit of finagling—holding the knife between her boots and sawing her wrists back and forth until the fibers frayed.</p><p>   Getting out of the saloon was more difficult. The door to the room was locked, and even if the lock could be picked Dani knew the stairs were unavoidably creaky, there was no hope sneaking down them undetected. Which left the window. It should have been easy enough to open, there was no lock, but the wood stuck tight as though it hadn’t been opened in a decade. It took a good deal of jimmying—sliding Flora’s knife around the window’s perimeter, loosening it. When she did finally managed to slide it open she smiled in relief, only to be immediately faced with another predicament—the ground was a good twenty feet below.</p><p>   Most of the jam jar lights had burnt out, but several of them remained alight, offering just enough of a glow for Dani to notice a small ledge below, a good five feet below the window. It wasn’t wide—she’d have to traverse it on her toes, it wouldn’t fit her whole foot. But if she <em>did </em>manage to traverse it—she smiled triumphantly when she realized—she could easily climb over the railing of saloon’s balcony and use the nearest skybridge to put distance between herself and the saloon. Figure out a way to climb down on the opposite side of the town circle.</p><p>   She slid out legs first, blindly using her feet to feel for the ledge below. It didn’t work, so she had to reposition herself, legs first but this time with her stomach balancing on the windowsill. Her foot found the ledge and she tested it with her weight—easing onto while keeping a firm grip on the sill in case the whole thing tore free. With most of the town falling apart there was no telling what the building could sustain.</p><p>   It held her and she sighed with relief. Breathed in and out. Steadying her breath. And then, holding tight to the window’s side, she began to inch her way toward the balcony. <em>Damn it. </em>Her knee. It had stopped throbbing hours earlier, the pain dissipating a bit after her nap, and she’d very nearly forgotten the injury in the strangeness of the day. But the first measured step across the ledge had her freezing in pain, biting her cheek, twisting her mouth, her entire face really, around an agonized scream that she refused to let out.</p><p>   She closed her eyes. Focused on breathing again. In and out. <em>Mind over matter</em>, her mother used to say whenever she fell sick as a child and had to swallow mouthfuls of vile medicine. <em>Mind over matter</em>, she’d said again when Dani was twenty and begging to be set free from a marriage arrangement with Edmund O’Mara. <em>Mind over matter. </em>It suddenly occurred to Dani that her parents would hear of her abduction—Edmund would inform them, perhaps they’d even travel out to the territory to see her safely returned to him. And maybe that knowledge should have been a comfort, but all Dani felt was a rush of fierce resolve. She pushed through the pain and took another step.</p><p>   She would not let this become yet another story for her father to allegorize from the pulpit. She took another step, looking ahead and not at the ground. She was done being a parable. She’d stood before his congregation once, a sea of faces, every one of them full of repulsion, and it hadn’t broken her. But the thought of all those people, all those simple people, their faces now full of pity at her ordeal? It turned her stomach. Another step. Because even if they cried out <em>how horrible </em>what they would whisper was <em>how deserved. How lucky, </em>she could imagine them murmuring once they’d heard the tale of her abduction, <em>that the Lord still saved her despite her past transgressions. </em>Because Dani had sinned, and the Lord punishes sinners.</p><p><em>   The Lord punishes sinners. </em>If Cottonwood had a gate like Bly then those words could very well be nailed up on it, written out in iron letters beneath the town name, uncompromising and cold.</p><p>   She made it to the balcony, swung a leg over the rail—her uninjured one—and stepped out onto the sky bridge, traversing it one carefully quiet step at a time. The Lord, Dani thought, was doing jack shit. She was saving herself.</p><p>   Across the sky bridge she found herself atop the platform surrounding the water tower. There was a ladder on the side of it and with a final glance back at the saloon—still dark and quiet—she climbed down to the ground below.</p><p>   She didn’t use the main street—best to meander through the town’s outer ruins, she figured, in case anyone was to peer out at the street from their room. She walked in what she was hoping was a direct line to the rock formation she’d taken note of earlier. Past the crumbling little houses, stepping around rocks and clusters of tumbleweed.</p><p>   At the edge of the town she found a gap in the wooden fence—a small opening between two warped boards that easily expanded to accommodate her when she pulled at the wood. She looked over her shoulder one last time. Silence. <em>Good. </em></p><p>   The rock formation was visible in the distance, silhouetted against the massive moon. It was…a bit further than she’d initially ascertained from the window. Quite a bit further, actually. But nothing to be done for it now, no turning back. Her knee hurt less and less with every step—the adrenaline, perhaps, or maybe just the taste of freedom.</p><p>   It was cold, she hadn’t been expecting it to be so cold. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked. Out of the corner of her eye something scampered across a rocky outcrop and she whirled to face whatever it was with a sharp gasp. A lizard probably. Or maybe some sort of rodent, now long disappeared into the night. She leaned down to retrieve the knife in her boot, tucking it into the waist of her skirt. Best to be prepared.</p><p>   It was incredible, the way her desperation for freedom had entirely overpowered every rational thought. Every last one of her fears. But the farther she grew from Bly, the more desolate and open the land became, some of those thoughts began creeping back to her.   </p><p>   Her eyes began playing tricks on her. A rock or a crouching mountain lion? A twisting crack in the dry ground or a viper? Every now and then an animal would call into the night and it would startle her, but the silence between the strange sounds was even worse—it was suffocating, heavy like a dark blanket.</p><p>   The rock formation still seemed miles away. And when she did finally reach it there was no telling how much farther she would have to go before coming upon some sort of civilization. Some sign of life. She pressed on, shivering and hugging herself tighter.</p><p>   In the distance she thought she heard something—a horse’s whinnying, perhaps. Her footsteps slowed. There were at least four horses back in Bly, it had to have come from one of them. She hadn’t come <em>that </em>far, and sounds carried in the flat desert, she’d learned that much that afternoon when she’d heard the distant train. But still. Her heart picked up its rhythm and she walked a little faster.</p><p>   Edmund had written home about a number of things, but nothing had painted as vibrant a picture as his stories of <em>them</em>—the others who inhabited these remote territories. The Indians. <em>They hate us,</em> he’d written once, shortly after setting out for Promise, <em>they’re savage and wholly uncivilized in their thinking, the way they doggedly reject the fact that God gifted the white man with Manifest Destiny, entrusting us to bring faith and democracy to every corner of this land, from forest to prairie to sea. They reject us and they reject God, </em>he’d written. <em>They delight in our ruination and it isn’t uncommon for settlers to fall victim to their ignorant rage—men, women and children alike, it makes no difference to the savage, they’ll slaughter anyone with fair skin while shrieking their demonic war cries to the sky. </em></p><p>   Dani had nightmares after that letter. Dark and grisly visions of red-eyed warriors, hungry for her blood. She would take a starved mountain lion over an Indian. Ten mountain lions. Twenty.</p><p>   She stopped walking and looked back when she heard it again. A horse braying. Her stomach turned. Her heart pounded. If it <em>was</em> an Indian her fate was sealed, there was nowhere to hide. The rock formation was closer now but still terribly far—if she tried to run to it she’d only exhaust herself and succumb to them quicker. Would they kill her right there on the desert floor or would they take her back to their camp and torture her first? Could she fight them off with the knife? Doubtful—impossible, really, but at least she wouldn’t go down as easily. Perhaps she’d get a slash in.</p><p>   A moment later she heard it—hooves, galloping across the packed dirt. She squinted into the dark but there was nothing to see—not yet. Her breaths were coming in gulps and the adrenaline was surging, screaming at her muscles to move<em>, </em>to <em>run</em>.</p><p>   So she did.</p><p>   She lifted her skirt as she ran, freeing her legs, the desert around her a blur. She couldn’t feel her injured knee, she couldn’t feel anything, just the adrenaline. And the fear. She didn’t want to die. She wasn’t ready.</p><p>   The horse was gaining on her, she could hear it, but she refused to look back. Refused to waste precious seconds that could be spent fleeing. Closer and closer it came, until finally it was all but pointless to keep running, the horse and its rider were nearly on her, she could hear its loud breaths and she could feel the ground trembling with the force of its stride.</p><p>   She pulled the knife from her waist in blind panic before forcing herself into one last sprint, pouring every ounce of determination into staying alive, and for one incredible and fleeting moment she actually pulled ahead of the horse, gaining a bit of ground.</p><p>   But then it all came to a brutal end. Something slammed into Dani from behind with the force of a cannon. The horse, she initially assumed in her terror, but no, it was the rider who’d seemingly leapt from the horse’s back as it ran, knocking Dani to the ground and pinning her there before grabbing the knife from her outstretched hand.</p><p>   Her cheek was pressed to the dirt, her eyes clenched shut. There was panic building in her chest. She could barely breathe—the running, the terror, being pinned to the ground, the rider sitting astride her back. She suddenly found herself gulping at the air fruitlessly, her lungs refusing to fill. She heard a horrible gasping wheeze and realized absently that it was coming from her own throat.</p><p>   The rider moved farther down her back, a knee on either side of her waist. Dani’s eyes flew open and she twisted her head just in time to realize it wasn’t an Indian at all, it was <em>her</em>, the woman—and how strange that the sight of her gave way to a feeling of <em>relief.</em> But the feeling didn’t last long because the woman was suddenly raising the knife up and plunging it down into Dani’s back.</p><p>   Dani screamed, a throat-shredding scream that disappeared into the dark vacuum of the night. She waited for the pain. For the trickle of warm blood. But nothing happened. A moment passed and her breathing evened. There was a soft breeze whispering across the desert floor and Dani felt it play across her back. Her <em>bare </em>back. She strained her neck to look over her shoulder in horror.</p><p>   “Better?” The woman asked after a moment, nodding at Dani’s ruined clothes.</p><p>   “You--you just destroyed the only shirt I have—”</p><p>   “You couldn’t breathe. Fuckin’ monstrous, corsets are. Ridiculous.”</p><p>   The woman knelt up, still straddling Dani but taking her weight off of her back, giving her space to turn over. When Dani did, she found the woman staring down at her, the knife still clutched in her right hand. The woman’s hat had been knocked off in the commotion, several tendrils of her hair had come loose.</p><p>   Dani was expecting a tirade from her. Yelling, threats. For her to tie another length of rope around Dani’s wrists. Tighter this time.</p><p>   But there was none of that. Instead, she simply stood up and offered Dani a hand.</p><p>   Dani ignored the hand, pushing herself up and clutching her ruined blouse and corset to her chest, as she eyed the woman, who was unbuttoning her vest then pulling it off, handing it to Dani.</p><p>   Dani stared at the offered vest and then looked at the woman. By way of explanation the woman simply nodded at Dani’s tattered shirt.</p><p>   Dani rather would have liked to take the vest and beat the woman with it. Her relief at the woman not being an Indian was quickly disappearing on the breeze, and replacing it was the sinking feeling that Dani had just blown her only chance to escape.</p><p>   “Suit yourself,” the woman said, moving to put the vest back on. “We’re ridin’ back together, figured you’d prefer to be clothed,” she started buttoning the vest up, “but if I have to spend the ride with you pressed against me, half naked,” she smirked down at the button she was working on, “can’t say it’ll be a hardship.”</p><p>   Dani’s eyes shot to hers. <em>That was</em>—<em>had she just? But she couldn’t have. </em>Of course she hadn’t meant <em>that</em>. But try as she did Dani couldn’t think what else she could have possibly meant, and <em>damnit</em> she could feel her cheeks growing warm.</p><p>   Dani shot out a hand. “I’ll wear it.”</p><p>   Another smirk. A nod as she unbuttoned it.</p><p>   When Dani was wearing the vest the woman whistled and her horse appeared, and before she could even think about what she was doing Dani launched herself at the animal, attempting to vault herself into the saddle—one last feeble attempt at absconding.</p><p>   As she tried to jump up—a ridiculous quest, she realized, she never would have made it—the woman grabbed her by the back of the vest, pulling her back down to the ground and looking at her with surprise and annoyance.</p><p>   Dani <em>hated </em>her. Her arrogance and her entitlement. It was possible that Dani was losing her grip because she followed through on a sudden urge to strike the woman, rocketing her closed fist at the woman’s face.</p><p>   The woman side-stepped the punch like it was nothing, then smiled at Dani—the first full smile Dani had seen from her—accompanied by an arched eyebrow.</p><p>   “Did—did you just try to hit me?”</p><p>   Dani just looked at her, exhausted and seething.</p><p>   “Good on you for tryin’, bloody impressive. Was all wrong though—gotta lean into it if you want to land it proper. Watch—”</p><p>   Before Dani could even process what was happening the woman had tackled her to the ground, pinning her again.</p><p>   Dani started wiggling, hitting at the woman’s legs, pushing at her stomach like mad.</p><p>   “Get <em>off </em>of me—”</p><p>   “Stop strugglin’ and I will—”</p><p>   “Get off me and I’ll stop struggling—”</p><p>   The woman suddenly shifted, grabbing Dani’s hands and pinning them over her head, anchoring her in place with her hips and staring down at her.</p><p>   Dani stared back and a moment later the woman shifted again—the slightest movement—but suddenly they were aligned in a way that had heat sparking in Dani’s core, and before she could stop herself she let out an airy breath. A small thing, really. But not small enough to go unnoticed. The woman looked surprised at first, and then she narrowed her eyes. Dani watched, mortified, as it all played out on the woman’s face—recognition, understanding, shock. And then that slow curl of a half-smile, like she was thrilled at what she’d just discovered.</p><p>   Dani’s mind was racing. It was the adrenaline, it was the anxiety, it was the panic at the sight of the knife being brought down into her back. The thought that she was dying. Being murdered all alone in the desert. It was many things, and it was understandable, Dani assured herself, that <em>those </em>feelings could creep in. It didn’t mean a thing.</p><p>   It was a small mercy that the woman didn’t press the matter. She helped Dani up and got them both situated on the white horse, Dani riding sidesaddle in front, the woman’s arm around her waist. Dani tried to ignore the way her skin scorched and tingled beneath the woman’s touch.</p><p>   The woman urged the horse into a light trot and as they rode the night began to catch up with Dani. She was thoroughly and truly exhausted. Too exhausted to be angry. Too tired to fight. She’d pick up that torch tomorrow. Find another way to escape. But for now. For now it was just the two of them. Dani and this strange woman who wore trousers and took in motherless children and had eyes that spoke of barely bridled fury.</p><p>   "So..." Dani sighed because here it was, her olive branch, "have you kidnapped people before?”</p><p>   A moment passed.</p><p>   “No.”</p><p>   “Really?”</p><p>   “’S that make you feel special?”</p><p>   Dani thought about it. “Maybe a little, actually.”</p><p>   “Well. Don’t let it go to your head.”</p><p>   It wasn’t long before Bly came into view, the moonlight reflected in the windows, shining off the buildings’ bleached wood.</p><p>   They were nearly at the gate when Dani asked the question she’d been wanting to ask since the first night.</p><p>   “What’s your name?” Dani shifted, tilting her head slightly toward the woman without looking back at her.</p><p>   Long moments passed and as they closed in on the town Dani gave up waiting for a reply. It wasn’t until they passed through the gate, the horse carrying them down the empty street, that the woman finally answered her, speaking more softly than Dani had heard her speak before.</p><p>   “Jamie,” she said. “It’s Jamie.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not a big fan of adding explanations to stories, I kind of think the writing should speak for itself, but this story does have some heaviness to it--race, religion, homophobia, etc. I'm not gonna flinch away from that stuff, it takes place in 1852, it is what it is, but I do want to acknowledge it and say that none of it will go unaddressed or unresolved.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>   M:</strong>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>Convoy passed by early this morning, tracked them in the scope. Had myself a proper panic when I first spotted them, hell of a way to wake up. Was nothing though, just more settlers. Poor bastards chasing a dream across the desert. Chasing a lie, more like. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Speaking of chasing. The girl tried to run. Did run, actually. Made it a good two miles before I caught up with her. I know, I know. Well done her, you’d say. I’m rather inclined to agree with you, honestly. Fucking impressive. Makes it more difficult for me, though. Brought up a pair of irons from the jailhouse when we got back and when I went to clap her in she fought like mad, tried to bargain with me and sat on her hands til I’d listen. And I’m going fucking soft because the irons went on but now it’s three hours outside she gets each day. Christ I can almost hear you chuckling at me, but it’s not like that. Just a job. Besides, she hates me, the girl does. Would tie me to the tracks and cheer on the train if she could. Don’t blame her. Don’t need her to like me. Bit ironic is all, how eager she is to get back to her husband. Wonder what she’d say if she knew the truth of it. The truth about why we took her. Dangerous thing to wonder, I suppose. Not my concern. Still, can’t help but feel a bit sorry for her. Feel a bit sorry for anyone come out here, looking for something better. If something better exists it sure as fuck isn’t here.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t rightly know what I was expecting but I reckon I couldn’t have imagined it, sitting beneath that grey sky with the smell of saltwater in my lungs. Couldn’t have imagined a place so different. Couldn’t have known the same sun sits closer here somehow. Scorches the air. Blisters you from the out and withers you from the in. That was supposed to be the point though—hole up someplace opposite. Someplace where there is no putrid wharf with its rotten fish and black water and hollow eyes and hungry hands. Thought the desert was the answer. Thought I could burn the memories away. Maybe in some ways it worked, most days I’m too fucking busy trying to keep us alive to look behind me and remember, like. But sometimes when the day goes quiet and the dark is dawning I swear I can still hear it. I swear I can still hear the sea.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>   -J</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                           ~*~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   “And these,” Flora said, standing before the stable, her arms spread wide in a grand flourish, “are the horses. And they’re—”</p><p>   “Perfectly common,” Miles muttered and Flora shot him a glare.</p><p>   “They’re not, they’re lovely, really they are. Come along, Mrs. O’Mara, I’ll introduce you properly.”</p><p>   It was the last stop on the tour of Bly that the children and Peter had insisted on giving Dani. Flora seemed to think nothing of leading Dani around by a length of rope tied at one end to the iron shackles, and while Dani loathed the humiliation of it all she had to admit it was still better than being stuck in the room all day.</p><p>   They’d shown her the rest of the saloon (<em>just boring bedrooms and the kitchen</em>, Flora had sighed, and Peter had nodded and said <em>bedrooms and the</em> <em>kitchen</em>), the jailhouse (<em>we play sheriff here but it’s not as much fun since Jamie took away the key after we locked ourselves in and she couldn’t find us for a day)</em> and the bank <em>(there’s no gold left, we checked). </em>They showed her the two empty stores that had at one time been a post office and a haberdashery, the latter of which had still been full of clothing when they arrived and subsequently raided it. <em>(Jamie took all the good clothes, </em>Miles had said begrudgingly).</p><p>   And now she was meeting their horses. <em>Properly. </em></p><p>   Flora went over to the tan horse, who had its face stuck in a bucket, eating. “This is Totem and she’s mine which is just spectacular, because I always wanted a pony.”</p><p>   “She’s a horse,” Miles said, “not a pony.”</p><p>   “I can call her a pony if I like, she’s mine and she doesn’t mind it.” Flora planted a kiss on the tan horse’s neck and the horse swished its tail and continued eating. “And this is Hooper, he’s—”</p><p>   “Flora! He’s my horse, I’ll be the one to tell her.” Miles stroked his hand down the black horse’s flank. “This is Hooper and he’s the fastest of the lot, he can run faster than a locomotive.”</p><p>   “Faster than a locomotive,” Peter nodded.</p><p>   “He <em>cannot</em>,” said Flora, rolling her eyes, “that’s a lie and you know it is.”</p><p>   “You weren’t even there when she told me,” Miles squinted at her, shaking his head, “Jamie took me riding and she said I’ve improved so much I was riding faster than a train.”</p><p>   Flora shot Dani a look. “She just said that to coddle him,” she stage whispered.</p><p>   Before Miles could argue, Peter was smiling and patting his own grey horse.  </p><p>   “Silver,” he said.</p><p>   Dani smiled. “I remember.”</p><p>   “And that’s Moon over there, Jamie’s horse,” Miles said, pointing at the white horse standing separate from the group toward the back of the stable. “She’s a Palomino, see the blond speckles on her legs and back? It’s quite unusual for them to look that way, so she’s rather special.”</p><p>   “I think <em>all </em>the horses are special,” Flora said. “Isn’t that right Totem, aren’t you so very special…” Her following words dissolved into the unintelligible as she nuzzled her face into Totem’s neck. Totem just kept eating.</p><p> </p><p>   On their way out of the stable Flora began tugging Dani’s rope back toward the saloon, but Dani noticed something at the opposite end of the road and stopped. The dirt road ended at the foot of the mountains, steep rocky precipices jutting here and there, but in the middle of it, right where the street ended, there was a yawning black hole.</p><p>   “What is that?”</p><p>   Flora turned around and came back to stand beside her. “What is what, Mrs. O’Mara?”</p><p>   “That hole in the rock,” Dani tried to point with her shackled hands. “Where does it lead?”</p><p>   “The caves of course,” Flora said. “We aren’t allowed in there, Jamie says it’s dangerous but really she just doesn’t want us messing about in her things.”</p><p>   Dani looked at Flora. “What does she have in there?”</p><p>   “This and that I suppose.” She spun on her heel. “Come along, Mrs. O’Mara.”</p><p>   As Flora walked her up the road Dani looked back over her shoulder at the gaping hole. If she was stuck in Bly for the time being at least there was intrigue. Mysteries to solve, curiosities to keep her mind from wandering and despairing. Children with trust to be earned. And Dani had yet to meet a child whose trust she hadn’t been able to earn. It may have been the only ace in her deck, the only weapon in her arsenal, but she had a feeling it would be the only thing she needed. Earn a little bit of their trust and have some nagging questions answered. Earn all of their trust and get them to set her free.</p><p> </p><p>   As they joined Miles and Peter in the main dusty circle suddenly Flora’s eyes lit up and she was squinting at the water tower, blocking the sun with her hand.</p><p>   “Hello, Jamie!” Flora called.</p><p>   Jamie was reclining against the water tower, smoking and writing in that little book again, one arm resting on a folded knee while her other leg dangled off the platform. She sent Flora a little salute.</p><p>   Flora held up the rope in her hands. “We’ve just been taking Mrs. O’Mara for a lovely walk.”</p><p>   “I see that,” Jamie said, and Dani could hear a smile in her voice and found herself thinking that if there was a God he’d smash the water tower right then and there and wash that smirk right off of her haughty face.</p><p>   “We’ve shown her all of Bly,” Flora was saying, “but I’m not entirely sure what we should do with her now.”</p><p>   “Might see if we have any biscuits in the kitchen. Could teach her to do a few tricks.”</p><p>   Dani decided right then that if she did manage to escape again she’d risk it all to slap irons on Jamie before leaving. Swallow the key. See how she liked being tied up.</p><p>   “We’ve got cards in the saloon, we could play whist,” Miles suggested.</p><p>   “Oh, yes!” Flora practically bounding toward the saloon. “Have you played whist, Mrs. O’Mara? It’s a perfectly amusing little game, really it is, come along and we’ll teach you.”</p><p>   Dani hurried after her into the saloon lest Flora resort to dragging her in her eagerness. It was rather remarkable—her knee was no longer swollen and even the deep slice had begun to heal. Undoubtedly due to the salve that had been left beside her bed at some point that morning as she’d slept. She couldn’t imagine Jamie having done something so quietly considerate, and she’d decided to believe it was Flora who’s left it there.</p><p> </p><p>   Dani had no idea how to play whist, and as she sat there at the uneven table watching the game unfold she began to suspect that Miles and Flora didn’t either.  </p><p>   Miles had dealt Dani a hand of cards and in response Dani had simply lifted her shackled wrists.</p><p>   “Not to worry,” Flora said cheerily, patting Dani’s shackle, “I’ll play for you.”</p><p>   Flora playing for Dani was really more like Flora playing for Flora with twice as many cards, which would have been amusing if there had been any real logic or structure to the game. As it stood the entire ordeal involved Miles and Flora slapping down cards on the table from their hands, after which one of them would cheer triumphantly and the other would groan and add the slapped cards to their hand. The goal seemed to be ridding oneself of as many cards as possible but the children seemed to be following some rulebook of their own creation as numbers and suits were completely disregarded in favor of <em>pretty </em>cards and <em>silly </em>cards and <em>angry </em>cards, a system comprehensible only to the two of them. Every now and then Peter would slowly take a card from one of their hands and add it to his own with a mischievous smile as though he thought himself to be cleverly undetected and winning. And, Dani thought, perhaps he <em>was</em> winning—the whole thing was really quite difficult to follow.  </p><p>   At one point Flora, with her eyes on the table, attempted to slide some of her cards into the pocket of Dani’s dress skirt. Early in the game she’d abandoned her own chair in favor of sitting on the armrest of the highbacked velvet wing chair that Dani was sitting in, making it all too easy for her to use Dani as an unwitting partner in crime.  </p><p>   Dani wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette for this sort of thing was. In her classroom she’d quietly call the child out on their cheating—not to embarrass, but to hold accountable. She’d probably give some little speech about how it was better to fail with honor than to win with deceit. But she wasn’t sure if there was any point in scolding a seasoned child criminal for cheating at cards. She also wasn’t precisely certain Flora was even cheating—the terms of the game seemed to grow more convoluted with every round.  When Flora stuck her hand in Dani’s pocket a second time Dani watched the little girl’s brow crinkle before she looked down, pulling a book from deep within Dani’s dress skirt.</p><p><em>   Paradise Lost. </em>The book she’d been reading—attempting to read—on the train. She’d forgotten all about it in the chaos.</p><p>   “Is this a storybook, Mrs. O’Mara?” Flora asked, leafing through the worn pages.</p><p>   “In a way,” Dani said. “It’s a poem, but a very long one. And it does tell a story, yes.”</p><p>   “What sort of story?” Miles asked, coming around the table to peer at the book over Flora’s shoulder.</p><p>   “The fall of man,” Dani said. “The Garden of Eden.”</p><p>   Their little faces were blank.</p><p>   “Adam and Eve?” Dani looked between them, waiting for recognition.</p><p>   “Adam and Eve,” Peter echoed happily, nibbling on a card.</p><p>   “You know, the Bible story,” Dani nodded at them.</p><p>   Flora shook her head. “Jamie says religion is for the weak of mind.”</p><p>   Dani cocked her head. She would have been horrified once upon a time, but in recent years she’d found herself considering the very same thing. <em>But—</em> “Surely you still believe in heaven?” The idea of children not believing in hope, in something better after death—especially <em>these </em>children, who had clearly lost so much.</p><p>   “Jamie says that heaven and hell are the opposite of what people think them to be,” Miles said matter-of-factly.</p><p>   Dani eyed him. “How so?”</p><p>   Miles shrugged. “She says if having fun leads to Hell then Hell must be full of fun people.”</p><p>   Dani felt her eyes grow round. She would have been excommunicated had she uttered those words aloud in Cottonwood, never mind imprint them on an innocent child.</p><p>   She swallowed. It was strange, feeling both offended and thrilled at the same time. “What else does Jamie say?”</p><p>   Flora was still paging through the book. “She says if Heaven’s full of Christians then she’s going to request the lake of fire.”</p><p>   A laugh burst from Dani before she could stop it. “That’s—” She laughed again. She didn’t know how to finish her thought. She didn’t know what that was. It was new. She’d never met someone who <em>wasn’t </em>religious. It dawned on her that she’d never really met anyone who wasn’t a member of her father’s congregation—every last person in Cottonwood had been associated with the church in one way or another.</p><p>   “I’d still like to hear the story though,” Flora said, and she picked up the book and leaned back, angling herself so that she was leaned up against Dani. “Would you read it to us?”</p><p>   She was looking up with such eager, innocent eyes. Cuddling into Dani like they’d known each other for ages. The way Dani’s students cuddled into her back home. It was always the lonelier ones, Dani had realized long ago, always the sadder ones who took to her the quickest.</p><p>   “Tell you what,” Dani said, taking the book as best she could with shackled hands and opening to the first page, “why don’t you read it to me?”</p><p>   Flora’s eyes whipped to hers before she looked over at Miles.</p><p>   “I’ll help you with the longer words,” Dani reassured.</p><p>   “We really rather hear you read it,” Miles said with that polite smile he seemed to employ whenever he was lying. “We haven’t heard a story in ages.”</p><p>   Dani looked between them, trying to figure out the best way to navigate her growing suspicion. “When did you leave London?” She asked softly. “How long ago?”   </p><p>   Miles eyes grew distant. “I don’t see how that has anything—”</p><p>   “How long?” Dani asked again, soft but insistent.</p><p>   “I was little,” said Flora. “I don’t remember London.”</p><p>   Miles was looking at Dani cautiously. “What does it matter how long—”</p><p>   “Five.” Peter was blinking at the table and then suddenly he looked right at Dani, the first time he’d made eye contact since she’d met him. “Five.”</p><p>   “Five—five years?” Dani waited, and after a moment Peter nodded sharply before breaking his eyes away as if it had taken great effort to keep them focused on Dani in the first place. “And in five years,” Dani proceeded carefully, “you’ve never attended school?”</p><p>   No answer. The children just looked down at the floor, as if they thought perhaps Dani would blame <em>them</em> for it.</p><p>   Dani ducked to catch their eyes, waiting until they were looking at her. “Would you like me to teach you how to read?”</p><p>   Flora’s face was immediately radiant, jubilant as she gushed on about how <em>perfectly marvelous </em>and<em> positively spectacular </em>that would be. But it was Miles’ reaction that stuck in Dani’s chest. The way he was looking at her, like he was equally confused and delighted that Dani would offer such a thing. For once it was as if his mask had been set aside. Dani had seen behind a lie to the truth and she hadn’t shamed him, she’d offered him a solution, and there was a ghost of a smile on his face as though it was a revelation—the notion that the truth could actually <em>solve</em> the problem.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   “I need to speak with you,” Dani said to Jamie’s back that afternoon. They were having a lunch of stale bread and leftover stew but Jamie had opted to eat by herself at the saloon’s bar, leaving the others to huddle around a far table.</p><p>   “’Bout what?” She didn’t turn around.</p><p>   Dani glanced over her shoulder at the children. They were lobbing bits of stewed jackrabbit at Peter, who was giggling as he tried to catch them in his mouth.</p><p>   “The children’s education,” Dani said. “Or lack thereof.”</p><p>   Jamie stopped eating and slowly turned to face her, taking her sweet time to finish chewing the last bite she’d taken. After she finally swallowed she swiped her tongue along her teeth, looking vaguely amused by Dani. Dani was getting tired of that look.</p><p>   “It’s been brought to my attention that the children cannot read,” she said, attempting a matter-of-fact tone.</p><p>   “Been brought to your attention, has it?”</p><p>   Dani ignored the smirk. “And if they cannot read, I can only assume they’ve been denied proper writing tutelage as well.”</p><p>   “And where would any of us be without proper writin’ tutelage.”</p><p>   “Quite literally stuck in the Stone Age, actually. Reading and writing are exactly the skills that allowed early man to establish a functioning society in the first—”</p><p>   “You’re not teachin’ them,” Jamie said. “If that’s what you’re on about.”</p><p>   “But—” Dani shook her head and tried to stay calm, “why not?”</p><p>   “They’ve had all the education they need. They can pick off a runnin’ rabbit from fifty yards with any firearm you please—a hundred if it’s standin’ still. They can nick the purse off a copper easy as smilin’, so—”</p><p>   “That’s—” Dani was shaking her head again, this time in disbelief, “that isn’t education it’s—you’ve just described violence and criminal activity.”</p><p>   “Skills for survival, more like. But I reckon life was probably just a little too sweet back in Cottonwood, Iowa for you to understand.”</p><p>   It was the way she said it. Her words, dripping with condescension like the life Dani had led barely counted for anything.</p><p>   “You don’t know anything about my life,” Dani said, holding back the full breadth of her rage at this <em>maddening </em>woman.</p><p>   “What is there to know?” Jamie said, and it was rhetorical—she followed it up with a huff of a laugh and a shake of her head. “Teacher, housewife. Couple of babies once you join your husband in that dainty little town—what was it again? Oh right—” A flash of white teeth. “<em>Promise</em>. What a lovely little name.”</p><p>   “It’s wrong,” Dani said, the words suddenly bursting forth, “it’s wrong of you to have them if you’re not going to properly care for them.”</p><p>   Dani hadn’t spoken loudly, but suddenly the entire saloon was quiet, even Peter and the children stopped playing. A dark churning anger had crept into Jamie’s eyes but Dani was done putting up with her temper tantrums. She was a grown woman and she should start acting it.</p><p>   Dani raised her chin. “If you’re going to deny them an education and encourage a life of crime then they’d be better off—”</p><p>   “Where?” Jamie’s rage was tangible, thick and staticky in the air. “Go on. Better off where?”</p><p>   “A children’s home,” Dani said, determined not to lose her nerve even as she felt herself regretting every word she was saying. “Someplace that would give them as kind and normal an upbringing as possible, given their circumstance.”</p><p>   Jamie’s fist was clenching and releasing, Dani saw it in the corner of her eye.</p><p>   “Fuckin’ unbelievable,” Jamie finally muttered.</p><p>   “What?” Dani barked back impatiently.</p><p>   “<em>You</em>. It’s fuckin’ unbelievable how daft you are—you fancy yourself some sort of intellectual beacon yet here you are spewin’ nonsense, absolute fuckin’ rubbish, makin’ yourself look like a right bit of shite—”</p><p>   “Nonsense? You think it’s nonsense for someone to <em>care</em>?”</p><p>   “Think it’s nonsense for you to assume—”</p><p>   “They <em>told </em>me they’ve never attended school, I didn’t—”</p><p>   “They shouldn’t be runnin’ their mouths—"</p><p>   “That’s another thing! You teach them to <em>lie</em>—”</p><p>   “And look what happens when they don’t!”</p><p>   “I’m <em>worried </em>about them! You don’t—”</p><p>   “<em>You </em>don’t! You have no fuckin’ right to tell <em>me</em>—"</p><p>   “I have every fucking right!” It was something of an epiphany, how saying such a word out loud actually made her feel better. Like it had come out of her mouth coated with a little bit of the venom that had been burning her inside. “I have every right to show concern over a child,” she repeated, “my <em>job </em>makes it my right.”</p><p>   “Your classroom’s in Iowa,” Jamie said. “Here, your job is to shut up and wait.” She stood, taking her bowl and bread with her as she crossed to the door.</p><p>   “Where are you going?”</p><p>   “Someplace quieter.” She pushed passed Dani and out the door.</p><p>   Dani went after her, catching up with her on the porch. “<em>You </em>can read and write. I’ve seen you with that little book. So tell me, how is that fair?”</p><p>   “Don’t you <em>ever</em>,” Jamie said, whirling back around to face Dani and there it was—finally some of that all-consuming fury Dani had seen in her, coming through in her clenched jaw and the way she spit the words like sparks from fire, “come to me about the children again. It’s not your fuckin’ place.”</p><p>   Long moments later Dani was still standing there on the porch seething when a subtle tug had her looking down at her hands. The rope was still attached to the shackles and someone was tugging at it from inside.</p><p>   When she went back into the saloon she found the children and Peter, all wide-eyed and apologetic looking.</p><p>   “It’s alright, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said sadly. “It was a lovely idea, and I’m sure you’re a perfectly divine teacher.”</p><p>   “Jamie’s quite a good person, really,” Miles said softly, and Dani held in a scoff because he looked like he was desperate for her to believe him. “She’s just rough and angry like that because she hasn’t had a woman in months.”</p><p>   Dani’s eyes snapped to his. “What?”</p><p>   “A lady, we haven’t had one around in months,” he said, as if his meaning had been perfectly clear the first time. “She’s polite to the women at the market, but it’s been so long since we’ve gone there, she’s forgotten that speaking to a lady requires a certain decorum. She’s a good person,” he said again, “just a bit out of practice with her manners.”</p><p>   Dani was still suffering the palpitations of her initial misunderstanding and all she could do was nod dumbly.  </p><p>   The moment stretched along in silence until Flora pulled out the deck of cards. “Who’s for another lovely game of whist?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                            ~*~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   Dani’s second full day in Bly dawned bright and clear, the air already sizzling by mid-morning when Flora walked her out of the saloon for their daily stroll.  Jamie was up on the water tower again, this time standing up, leaned against the railing as she squinted into the telescope.</p><p>   Flora led Dani up the road, apparently the boys had found some sort of <em>perfectly disgusting </em>insect that they wanted to show her.</p><p>   “Well, it was here,” Miles said when they joined him by a collection of cacti, “but Peter squished it.”</p><p>   Peter grinned. “Crunch.”</p><p>   Dani forced a smile. “Next time, then.”</p><p>   “She’s been up there since dawn,” Miles said, and Dani followed his gaze to the distant water tower where they could just make out Jamie, still at the telescope. “Hasn’t even come down to eat.”</p><p>   “It’s become a bit of an obsession, I’m afraid,” Flora said with a sigh.</p><p>   “What has?” Dani looked down at her. “What is she looking for?”</p><p>   “The bad people. The ones who are after us.”</p><p>   “FLORA!” Miles screamed it and Peter jumped a foot off the ground, covering his ears and whining that high-pitched whine. “Stop being so bloody stupid! You just keep telling her—"</p><p>   “I’ll have you know I think she’s lovely and I’ll tell her what I like!” Flora shouted back.</p><p>   Peter’s face was turning red as he keened, and when Miles started shouting back again Peter suddenly started to hit at himself.</p><p>   “Peter—” Dani reached out but he spun away, and she looked at Miles and Flora helplessly. “He’s hurting himself—”</p><p>   Miles went up to him and pulled the stuffed horse out of Peter’s pocket, handing it to him.</p><p>   “Hold on to Silver,” Miles said sweetly, “give Silver a cuddle and remember to breathe, right mate? We’re sorry for the noise, we weren’t thinking. Keep breathing—”</p><p>   Peter clutched the little horse so tightly his knuckles turned white, but a moment later his breathing evened and his face returned to its usual color.</p><p>   Dani sent Miles a grateful smile and reached out to touch Peter’s arm. This time he didn’t flinch away.</p><p>   “You named your little horse after your big horse,” she said, patting the stuffed toy while trying to make eye contact with Peter.</p><p>   “Actually he named the real horse after the toy,” Miles said, back to squinting at Jamie and the telescope with a worried wrinkle in his brow. “He made the toy on the boat coming over. It wasn’t until last year that we were given horses.”</p><p><em>   Given horses. </em>Dani wanted to ask about that—she wanted to ask about a lot of things, but it was more information than Miles had ever offered and she decided, for now, to let it be.</p><p>   Suddenly someone whistled in the distance—Jamie, from atop the water tower, and Dani felt it the moment everything changed. The moment Miles and Flora went rigid beside her. Even Peter’s demeanor seemed to change.</p><p>   “Oh no,” Flora whispered, grabbing Dani’s shackled hand. “Follow me. Hurry.”</p><p>   It happened in flashes. Meeting up in the center of town, Jamie barking orders at the children. Dani standing there stupidly, watching as Miles pulled at the rigs and gears that had fascinated Dani as architectural oddities—she’d never considered that they were there to serve a purpose. But as Miles methodically pulled at this and that, boards slammed down over windows and doors, the barrel of a rifle appeared at the edge of the saloon’s roof as Flora cranked a lever. Jamie was sitting on her knees in the dirt, loading an arsenal of firearms at lightning speed.</p><p>   “What next?” Miles panted from the saloon’s porch.</p><p>   “Bank. In the vault, you and Flora both.” Jamie didn’t look up from the shotgun she was loading.</p><p>   Miles was visibly upset with that answer. “But—”</p><p>   “Get the fuck down there now.”</p><p>   The children disappeared into the bank building. Peter had disappeared into the saloon. And Dani was just standing there beside Jamie, bewildered and increasingly afraid because clearly they were quite suddenly preparing for an all-out war.</p><p>   “What’s happening?” Dani asked.</p><p>   Jamie looked startled, like she’d forgotten Dani was standing there. “Shite, that’s what. Fuckin’ riders. Two of them, headed straight for us.”</p><p>   She snapped the double barrel of the shotgun back into place, aiming and squinting down it before placing it on the dirt and loading the next one.</p><p>   “And…that’s bad?” Dani asked.</p><p>   “Maybe in Cottonwood people drop by out of Christian concern, but out here? Company means trouble.”</p><p>   “What—” Dani glanced up the dusty road at the gate and back down to Jamie. “What can I do to help?” She was surprised herself that she’d asked it, but Jamie looked downright shocked.</p><p>   Jamie shook the look from her face and stood, collecting the guns from the ground. “Want to help, do you?” She smirked, rushing into the saloon.</p><p>   Dani ran after her. “Well I don’t want to <em>die,</em> and you’re making it seem like—”</p><p>   “Come off it, we both know what you’re after.”</p><p>   Dani just looked at her.</p><p>   “Soon as they’re within earshot you’ll be screamin’ for help, actin’ every bit the damsel in distress—”</p><p>   “I genuinely want to help,” Dani said firmly, finding that it was the truth. “For the children,” she added quickly, when Jamie began eyeing her intensely. “I don’t want any harm to come to the children.”</p><p>   Jamie rolled her eyes. “Thank stars you’re here then, don’t know what the fuck we’d do without you protectin’ us.” She bounded up the stairs, still cradling the guns.</p><p>   Dani rushed after her. “You don’t need to be so rude all the time. If bad people are coming then you should take help when it’s offered.”</p><p>   “I should, should I?”</p><p>   Dani just waited.</p><p>   Jamie arched an eyebrow. “Can you shoot a gun?”</p><p>   Dani lifted her shackled hands and Jamie rolled her eyes for a second time.</p><p>   “If I take those <em>off</em>, can you shoot a gun?”</p><p>   Dani gave a slow shrug. “I’ve never tried, <em>but—</em>” she raised her voice, chasing after Jamie when Jamie had rolled her eyes yet again and spun away, rushing into one of the front bedrooms, “it’s possible I have an untried knack for it!”</p><p>   “Also possible you’ll blow your fuckin’ hands off and then your husband will be askin’ for a discount.” Jamie was leaning a gun against each of the two front windows, which were covered with the boards Miles had lowered with the gear mechanism. There were holes cut in the wood, just large enough for a pair of eyes and the barrel of a gun.</p><p>   Jamie raced into the other room and did the same thing before heading down the hall again, opening a small door at the end that led to a narrow stairway. The stairway led to the roof, where Peter was waiting, squinting into another telescope that had been bolted to the building’s false front, the portion of the roof that stuck up a good five feet past the roofline. It made for an excellent blockade, fortified by pillows and cushions that had been dragged to the roof, along with other odds and ends—rocks, pots and pans, even a large safe.  </p><p>   Jamie gently nudged Peter aside and looked in the telescope herself. “Fuck.”</p><p>   “What?” Dani’s heart thudded as a thought occurred to her. “Is it—is it Indians?”</p><p>   If Dani hadn’t already known that Jamie thought she was an idiot the look she sent her then would have cleared things up efficiently.</p><p>   “Miners, looks like. Out of work and lookin’ to loot.” Jamie was busy lining up the muzzle of her rifle with some spot on the street below, staring down with one eye squeezed completely shut.</p><p>   “Are you going to <em>kill </em>them?” Dani asked, suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation. “Isn’t it possible that they’re harmless?”</p><p>   “No one’s harmless.”</p><p>   “So you’re just going to shoot them before you even find out—”</p><p>   “Gonna shoot you in a minute if you don’t stop natterin’.”</p><p>   “Unshackle me.”</p><p>   Jamie looked at her. “So you can take a shot while my back’s turned? Thanks, no.”</p><p>   “So we can go down there and <em>speak </em>to them, see what they want without causing undue suspicion. I imagine it would raise eyebrows, you walking me out there like this.” She glanced down at her aching wrists.</p><p>   Jamie’s eyes were narrowed at her. “Why are you tellin’ me the plan ‘stead of the other way round?”</p><p>   “Because your plan was shite.” She counted it as a small victory when Jamie’s half-smile made a fleeting appearance.</p><p>   Jamie reached into the pocket of her trousers and fished around, pulling out a small silver key. “I’m gonna take them off. Temporarily.” She arched an eyebrow at Dani before taking lifting Dani’s hand with her own, sticking the key in the keyhole. “If you run I swear I’ll shoot you myself.”</p><p>   The irons fell away and Dani rubbed her wrists. “What’s the going ransom for dead wives?”</p><p>   Jamie ignored her. “We’ll confront them from up here. And if things go belly-up it’ll be like crackin’ fish in a barrel. Peter,” she clapped a hand on his arm, “go man the post in your room, your shotgun’s waiting.”</p><p>   Peter disappeared through the door that led back to the stairs.</p><p>   “You…you trust him to use a gun? He’s able to do that?”</p><p>   “Christ no, the noise itself would panic him,” Jamie said, double-checking her rifle’s scope, “his gun isn’t loaded.” She picked up a shotgun, removed the buckshot and handed it to Dani. “And neither is yours.”</p><p>   Dani was oddly and unexpectedly disappointed. “What’s the point of giving me an unloaded gun?”</p><p>   “They won’t know it’s not loaded,” Jamie nodded in the direction of the riders.</p><p>   “The children carry loaded revolvers.”</p><p>   “The children know how to use them.” She checked the telescope. “They’re comin’ up on the gate.” She faced Dani. “When they reach the circle stay back and let me do the talkin’.” She glanced at the shotgun Dani was holding and made a face. “That’s not how you hold it—jam it in your armpit like that and the recoil’ll dislocate your shoulder.”</p><p>   Dani put the gun down. “This is ridiculous, it’s not even loaded.”</p><p>   “The point is to make it <em>look</em> like you’re a threat. Make it look like you know what you’re doin’.”</p><p>   “I <em>don’t</em>, so how can I?”</p><p>   Jamie let out an exasperated sigh and moved behind Dani, handing her another shotgun, manhandling her arms into position—one bent at the elbow, finger on the trigger and the other stretched out to cradle the barrel from beneath.</p><p>   “Like that,” Jamie said, “and then to aim you move yourself, your upper body like, rather than the gun—” She had one hand on Dani’s bent elbow and the other was sliding up her arm to cup Dani’s fingers, clasped beneath the barrel, and she pressed into Dani’s back to rotate her, just slightly, left and right. There was a certain desperation to the demonstration, they had only moments before the men appeared below, yet it felt as though time stopped when Jamie let out a breath against the back of Dani’s neck.</p><p>   “Good,” Jamie said, and the word rasped in her throat.</p><p>   Dani was all at once very aware of Jamie’s hands on her bare skin—she was still wearing the sleeveless brown vest, she’d been wearing it ever since her own shirt had been ruined.</p><p>   There was a noise from below and Jamie stepped away from her, going to peer over the roofline. She looked back at Dani over her shoulder, bringing a finger to her lips before positioning herself at the rotating contraption that held the rifle.</p><p>   Dani set the shotgun down, crept to the roof’s edge and peeked over.</p><p>   Two riders—one skinny and one fat, were riding slowly up the dirt road, pointing at the sky bridges and muttering between themselves, likely trying to figure out the town’s unique design. Dani retrieved the shotgun. Her heart had picked up a bit as the men approached, and even an unloaded shotgun felt better than nothing. When the men were almost immediately below the saloon’s roof Jamie called down.</p><p>   “Mornin’ gents.”</p><p>   It took a moment for them to figure out where the voice had come from. When they spotted her the larger man took off his hat, pressing it to his chest in greeting. His bald head glistened in the sun.</p><p>   “Pardon us passing through,” he said, “thought the town was vacant.”</p><p>   “Forgivable mistake if you turn round and keep passin’ through,” Jamie said.</p><p>   The man considered this. “How many of you up there?” He asked.</p><p>   “Enough.”</p><p>   “Any menfolk?”</p><p>   “Got somethin’ against bein’ shot by a woman?”</p><p>   “No menfolk, eh?” The man <em>tsked.</em> “That is interesting.”</p><p>   The men shared a look that sent something cold and slithering into Dani’s stomach.</p><p>   “Think you blokes should head on. I’ve asked nicely,” Jamie said, “and I don’t fancy repeatin’ myself.”</p><p>   The man smiled. “We’ve been riding for quite some time and our horses are parched.”</p><p>   “There’s a spigot at the base of that water tower,” Jamie nodded at it, “welcome to fill your canteens if you like.”</p><p>   “We’re thirsty too,” he said.</p><p>   It was subtle, but Dani noticed when Jamie’s finger tightened slightly around the trigger. “Plenty of water to go round.”</p><p>   “It’s not water we’re thirsty for,” he said, flashing a smile of crooked brown teeth.</p><p>   Dani made the mistake of leaning closer to the edge for a better look, the barrel of her shotgun poking over the roofline. The other man spotted her.</p><p>   “Well, well,” the skinny man said. “Two lasses?” He looked at his friend. “Our lucky day.”</p><p>   “Luck’s runnin’ out, mate,” Jamie said. “Take the water and go, it’s the best offer you’ll get.”</p><p>   But the men were staring at Dani now, no longer listening to Jamie.</p><p>   “You’re miles from the nearest outpost,” the fat man was saying, “must be hard having certain <em>needs </em>met. Could make it easier for you,” he pulled out a roll of money, flashing it at Jamie. “How much?”</p><p>    Jamie’s finger tightened on the trigger again. “Not for sale.”</p><p>   “For an hour then. How much?”</p><p>   “Eat shite.”</p><p>   “She’s pretty. We’ll pay double what you’d get for her in Provo.”</p><p><em>   Jesus. </em>They were trying to buy <em>her</em>. Dani could’ve fainted with the realization.</p><p>   Jamie’s jaw was rigid. “She’s. Not. For. Sale.”</p><p>   “Is she yours?” The skinny man asked. “You could watch, we’ll pay extra—"</p><p>   “Ask me again. Go on. Give me one more reason to pull this fuckin’ trigger—"</p><p>   “Angry little thing, aren’t you?” The fat man chuckled. “I oughta fuck that sass right out of—"</p><p>   The shotgun’s blast was deafening. Dani was on the ground and she couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten there. Her ears were ringing and the gun she’d been holding was on the roof in front of her, the muzzle still smoking.</p><p>   Jamie was looking at her, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. “What the fuck—”</p><p>   Dani felt faint. “You said—you said it wasn’t loaded—you said—”</p><p>   Jamie grabbed the shotgun, cracked the barrel to check. “<em>That </em>one’s not loaded,” she pointed at the other gun, still on the ground where Dani had laid the weapons side by side. “Christ, you’re a fuckin’ maniac—”</p><p>   “<em>I’m </em>a maniac? <em>You’re </em>the one—” But Dani stopped short, because Jamie wasn’t mad she was grinning, looking positively thrilled.</p><p>   Down below the men were in a panic—the buckshot hadn’t hit them, but it had torn a gaping hole in the storefront just beyond, missing them by less than a foot.</p><p>Jamie manned the rifle, sending several more warning shots into the ground around the men. Their horses reared up as the men scrambled to pull out their own revolvers.</p><p>“Stay down,” Jamie motioned to Dani without looking at her, and not a minute later the roofline was sprayed with bullets.</p><p>   It felt like Dani’s heart was in her throat. Felt like she was choking on it. Mere days ago she’d never even held a gun and now she’d shot one and was being shot at in return. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. It tickled in her nose, she could taste the sulfur in her mouth. Jamie hadn’t been wrong about the recoil—Dani’s shoulder was throbbing. It would be black and blue later, she had no doubt.</p><p>   “Crazy bitches,” one of the men shouted up at the roof, and Dani absently noted that it was yet another first—no one had ever called her that before.</p><p>   Suddenly there was another great <em>pop </em>from Jamie’s rifle, followed by an agonized scream below.</p><p>   “Fuck!” One of the men screamed. “Fucking cunt! Fucking bitch, I’ll fucking kill you! You’ll be sorry—”</p><p>   From where she sat Dani could hear the scene clearly as the men turned their horses and began galloping back the way they came, one of them sending a last threat over his shoulder about how they weren’t finished with them. That they’d be back.</p><p>   Jamie stood there watching them disappear into the desert and Dani sat watching her as she waited for her heart to slow down. After long moments Jamie seemed to relax, cursing under her breath then bending to begin collecting the firearms. Dani moved to help her, but Jamie grabbed the guns away quickly, giving her a look.</p><p>   “I thought it was unloaded,” Dani shrugged weakly, and Jamie sent her another look. “But he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”</p><p>   Jamie seemed taken aback at that, but she recovered quickly, picking up another gun.</p><p>   Dani swallowed. “Will they really come back?”</p><p>   “Might.” Jamie shrugged. “Not tonight. More likely they’ll find some outpost to drown their sorrows and forget the whole ordeal.”</p><p>   “What—what happened at the end?”</p><p>   “Fuckin’ wanker pulled out a pistol. Double barrel. Was strapped to his leg, didn’t see the holster.” Jamie sounded angry with herself for the oversight. “Gun like that would blow a hole in the roof. Blow a hole in one of us. Couldn’t let him take the shot so I took his finger.”</p><p>   Dani had been gingerly collecting the remaining loaded weapons despite Jamie’s clear disapproval, but when she processed Jamie’s words her head whipped up so fast it was a miracle it didn’t snap. “You—you shot off his finger?”</p><p>   “Trigger finger.” She stuck up her own index finger and wiggled it. “Might teach him to be a bit more polite now that his gun can’t do the talkin’.” She sniffed casually and glanced down at Dani. “You alright?”</p><p>   Dani felt her eyebrows creep up her forehead, she couldn’t help it. Jamie was behaving very nearly like an actual human being. Finger removals aside.</p><p>   “Yes, I—” Dani sent her a small smile that went unrequited. “Sorry for—” She gestured in the direction of the facade she’d destroyed.</p><p>   “Bloody scary when you want to be.” Jamie shook her head, teeth flashing. “You really can’t shoot for shite you know.”</p><p>   “The storefront might disagree with you.”</p><p>   “The storefront’s proof you’re fuckin’ rubbish.”</p><p>   Dani smiled despite herself. “Thank you, by the way. For—you know. Not selling me.”</p><p>   Jamie snorted. “They weren’t offerin’ half what I’ll get from your husband, so.” She must have noticed Dani’s face fall because suddenly she was following it up with, “I’m jokin’. Men like that are filth. Wouldn’t have sold you to them, didn’t matter what they were offerin’.”</p><p>   She started to the door, her arms full of guns, muttering for Dani to <em>come on already. </em></p><p>   Dani followed after her, trying to ignore the tingling in her chest. It wasn’t exactly a peace offering<em>,</em> telling someone you wouldn’t sell them to vile random men, but…Dani ducked her head to hide a smile. It was something, at least. A start.</p><p> </p><p>   The children refused to let Jamie out of their sight for the rest of the day, jumping at shadows and every odd noise.</p><p>   “Was a false alarm,” Jamie had assured them when they’d come up from the bank vault.</p><p>   “<em>That </em>was a false alarm?” Dani had looked at her, then looked at the others. “Who are you all running from? What kind of people—”</p><p>   “Bad ones,” Jamie had said, and her tone hadn’t left room for follow up questions.</p><p> </p><p>   Later, Jamie announced she needed to ride out past Bly to bury the severed finger in the desert lest the smell of it attract wildcats, and the children practically panicked, clinging to her desperately. She scolded them gently, told them they were being foolish, assured them there was nothing to fear, but in the end they all went, even Dani, and as the sun set behind them they dug a little hole, just big enough for a finger. Flora insisted on saying a few words.</p><p>   “It’s a <em>finger</em>, Flora,” Miles said. “This isn’t a funeral.”</p><p>   “Let her say her piece,” Jamie smacked Miles lightly on the back of the head.  </p><p>   Flora closed her eyes, taking a moment to think. Then she said, “We’re sorry you got shot off. You were probably a perfectly good finger stuck onto a perfectly horrible man. And it’s not your fault he made you do bad things, but now you’re free."</p><p>   “Free to become lizard grub—”</p><p>   “Miles!” Flora shoved him.</p><p>   Once the dirt was packed back down over the tiny grave Peter pulled a playing card, bent and chewed at the edges, from his vest pocket. He bent down and stuck it into the dirt. A little headstone. Jamie had nodded at him and he’d nodded back importantly.</p><p>   Then they returned to Bly for dinner.</p><p>   Back in the dusty main circle Jamie instructed the children to go prepare the meal while she went to feed the horses.</p><p>   “But the men—” Flora started, and Jamie cut her off.</p><p>   “They’re miles away lookin’ for the nearest outpost,” she said. “Desperate for a doctor and some whiskey, I can promise you they’re not comin’ back tonight.”</p><p>   Flora nodded, looking far from convinced, and then she and the boys made their way into the saloon.</p><p>   Jamie slid Dani a glance as she was turning to walk away. “Help me in the stable?”</p><p>   “Oh—uh. Alright.” Dani followed after her. Something had shifted between them on the roof, though she wasn’t precisely sure what. But it had occurred to her as they’d been walking back from the finger funeral that, following the rooftop ordeal, Jamie had never gotten around to putting the irons back on her wrists. And Dani wasn’t sure which was stranger—that Jamie had left her unshackled, or that despite her newfound freedom it had only just then occurred to her that she could try to make another run for it.</p><p>   Back behind the little stable there was a wooden saltbox, and Jamie opened it to reveal a massive quantity of oats, flowers and bits of dried grass. She filled a bucket and handed it to Dani.</p><p>   “Feed Hooper first, the black one. Greedy tosser, won’t let the others alone if he doesn’t have his feed.”</p><p>   Dani nodded, taking the bucket but staring at Jamie, who was busy filling the next one. The way she’d been speaking to her all afternoon…casual and calm and almost as if she could stand the sight of her. It was wholly unnerving.  </p><p>   Dani fed Hooper and returned to the saltbox where two more buckets were waiting.</p><p>   “Totem and Silver. The tan and the—”</p><p>   “Grey. I met them all yesterday.”</p><p>   Jamie nodded and it almost looked as though she’d done it to hide a small smile.</p><p>   Dani fed Totem and Silver and returned one last time to find Jamie arranging flower petals atop the last bucket, the grass arranged carefully like a bouquet.</p><p>   “Not playing favorites, are you?” Dani asked.</p><p>   Jamie raised a shoulder. “Course I am. We all do it. Flora feeds ‘em and next thing you know Totem’s wearin’ flowers in her tail and a grass crown on her ears, lookin’ like a right idiot.”</p><p>   Dani went back into the stable for the last time, making a face at the back wall because it was all bizarre and confusing and exciting, maybe? Not exciting, exciting wasn’t a word one should use in regards to their captor, but…there was something. Something.</p><p>   She put the bucket down in front of Moon, but unlike the others Moon didn’t immediately stick her face into it. Instead she sniffed Dani, and after a thorough investigation she nuzzled into her chest.</p><p>   “She likes you,” Jamie said. She was leaning against the door of the stable with her arms crossed.</p><p>   Dani smiled at the horse. “Is that right, Moon? Are we friends? Are we? You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? So beautiful, yes you are—”</p><p>   “Don’t talk my horse like that.”</p><p>   Dani looked at Jamie. “Like—like what?”</p><p>   “It’s rude. She’s not a fuckin’ puppy.”</p><p>   Dani could not read this woman. Not in the least. But she decided to take a chance and hope that Jamie was, in some part, teasing.</p><p>   “Does <em>she</em> know she’s not a puppy?” Dani looked at the horse pointedly, she’d begun scratching her face up and down Dani’s arm. “She’s kind of acting like a puppy.”</p><p>   Jamie gave a soft laugh and Dani felt a little more relieved than she cared to admit.</p><p>   Jamie shook her head. “Nah. She’s got a weakness for pretty girls, is all. Come on, let’s see if they’ve burned down the saloon yet.” She turned to walk away, leaving Dani to stand there, slightly dumbstruck. <em>What was happening? </em>She ran to catch up, falling in stride alongside Jamie and sneaking glances at her as they walked.</p><p>   Jamie’s hands were in the pockets of her vest, her white sleeves rolled up her forearms. Dani found herself staring at those arms—it was so strange to see a woman with sun-bronzed skin. She’d always associated bronzed skin with old men and farm work, but she was realizing that nearly nothing she’d learned in Iowa could be applied here, in this vast and empty wilderness.   </p><p>   Dani tore her eyes away from Jamie’s arms. It was odd. Odd for her to be staring. They were just arms. Regular, boring arms. She looked down at the ground. Watched the now-filthy toes of her formerly pristine cream boots poke out from beneath her ruined skirt as she walked. Then she glanced back at the arms. They were well-muscled. Truly sculpted, like some sort of statue. The ones she’d read of that existed far across the sea in all those ancient countries. She tore her eyes away. The ground. Her boots. Arms. <em>Damnit. </em>There were tendons, strong and pronounced. Freckles too, beauty marks. Dani was counting them when she suddenly felt Jamie’s eyes on her face. She looked up. Jamie was watching her, brow arched and lips on the brink of a smirk. Dani looked away, and this time she didn’t look back.     </p><p> </p><p>   They reached the steps of the saloon, greeted by the smell of something spicy and warm cooking inside. Dani was about to step onto the stair when suddenly Jamie bounded onto it before her, spinning around to face her, cutting her off. Dani looked up, confused.</p><p>   Jamie’s hands were still in her vest pockets and she was squinting past Dani, rocking up onto the balls of her feet then down again, up and down like she was trying to work up the nerve to say something. “I’ve changed my mind,” she finally said, not making eye contact. She nodded, to herself it seemed. “You can start tomorrow. Buildin’ right there should suit.” She nudged her chin in the direction of the store across the street. The one without a massive hole in it.</p><p>   “What—” Dani looked over her shoulder at the building and then back to Jamie, “sorry, what are you talking about?”</p><p>   “The children.” Jamie shrugged a solitary shoulder and scrunched her nose like she had an itch, watching herself toe the stair with her boot. “They need a distraction after,” she gestured vaguely at the day’s events. “So. You can teach them.” She finally looked at Dani. “If you like.”</p><p>   “I would,” Dani said immediately, and it was the truth—even the fact that she was being held captive couldn’t diminish her excitement in that moment. “I would like that very much.” She gave Jamie a grateful smile. “Thank you.”</p><p>   Jamie nodded, but continued to look at her for a moment longer. Just a bit longer than casual conversation typically called for, before turning to go inside. And it might’ve been nothing. Probably <em>was </em>nothing, Dani assured herself. But then, it had rather felt like <em>something.</em> The way that Jamie hadn’t looked at her eyes when Dani was speaking. How she’d stared only at her lips. It was probably nothing. It was definitely nothing. And yet…</p><p>
  <em>   What. Was. Happening.  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em><br/></em>                            ~*~</p><p> </p><p>   Early the following morning Miles and Flora helped Dani move several small tables and chairs from the saloon into the empty haberdashery across the street. The space was largely empty, several hat stands and armoires sat collecting dust here and there. The front windows were coated in red dust the way everything in the desert seemed to be, but they still offered a decent amount of daylight. There was a small wooden counter at the front, likely where the store’s cash register had been, and Dani discovered that when paired with one of the saloon’s tall stools it made for the perfect teacher’s desk.  </p><p>   The right side of the shop offered the largest expanse of open wall, and if only she could find some chalk, Dani thought, it could serve well as a makeshift blackboard.</p><p>   “Chalk?” Miles echoed when she asked, shaking his head. “I don’t believe so, Mrs. O’Mara. But Flora makes a wonderful paint mixing rabbit’s blood and dried mud.”</p><p>   “Oh,” Dani forced a smile, “that’s alright. I’ll think of something.” And then she did. “The marks on your faces—” Every day the designs were different--today the children had zig zags on their cheeks and lines down their noses. “What do you use?”</p><p>   “Coal from the stove,” Miles said. “Shall I fetch some?”</p><p>   And that was how the classroom came together. Armchairs pulled up to rickety tables—not ideal for children’s desks but they would do, and the entire alphabet, upper and lower case, written out across the store’s wall in black coal.</p><p>   “We’ll start with your names. We’ll go over the letters and work on the phonetics,” Dani said, unable to stifle a smile when she looked down and saw their eager faces and the way they were both sitting ramrod straight, fingers laced on their respective tabletops and watching her every move.</p><p>   They were quick studies, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Their spoken vocabulary was something of an enigma—they were far better spoken than people Dani knew with a full education, and Dani didn’t doubt it would be quick work bringing their written language skills up to snuff. Flora was the sort of student who asked questions when she didn’t understand—she was wholly open to learning, and within an hour she could write her own name. Miles was smart, above average, Dani suspected. But he had a tendency to want to prove himself, becoming frustrated with his own mistakes and losing his temper. It didn’t help matters when Flora mastered writing her own name <em>and </em>his by mid-morning.</p><p>   “Bloody show off,” he’d growled at her, swiping his arm across the tabletop to smudge away his most recent mistake.</p><p>   “I’m not showing off, I’m just naturally clever,” she’d said in a bit of a sing-song, writing her name over and over on her tabletop.</p><p>   She <em>was </em>showing off, Dani mused, but it was rather wonderful, seeing her proud and celebrating her success. It was the high that Dani chased—seeing the moment her students mastered a skill or a concept. Seeing the light go on in their eyes. She lived for those moments.</p><p>   “Miles,” Dani said softly, walking over to where he was still scrubbing at his blackened mess of a tabletop, “don’t be upset, you’re doing just fine. Show me which part you’re having trouble with.”</p><p>   “I make it backwards every time! The stupid S!” He threw his piece of coal across the room.</p><p>   “So childish,” Flora hummed, still filling every miniscule opening on the table with her name.</p><p>   Miles let out a growl, shoving the table away from himself and flopping back against the chair, arms crossed. Dani didn’t have to wonder too hard to know exactly where he’d learned how to overreact with a tantrum.</p><p>   “Flora.” Dani sent her a look before turning to Miles. “Go pick up the coal.” She was used to children testing her, seeing how far they could push, but the glare Miles was giving her was something else entirely. But Dani liked a challenge. “Go pick it up.”   </p><p>   Miles rolled his eyes and made a great show of dragging himself across the room, huffing and stomping and glaring at Flora when she giggled.</p><p>   Dani crouched down beside his chair when he was seated again. “It’s okay to get frustrated. It’s not okay to throw things. You need to find another way.”</p><p>   “Like shooting? Jamie always tells me to go to the edge of town shoot at stuff when I’m angry.”</p><p>   “That’s not—that won’t work here. In the classroom. And honestly that’s—” She shook her head. Swallowed her words. They weren’t <em>hers. </em>They were Jamie’s. And Jamie had kept them alive this long. Somehow. “Let’s talk about that S, shall we?”</p><p>   Dani showed him how the S resembled a snake, and how he could draw little fangs at the top where the mouth would be.</p><p>   “And you don’t want the snake to bite you,” Dani told him, “so you need to make sure he’s facing away from the rest of your name. See?”</p><p>   A smile dawned on Miles’ face. “I do! May I try?” He held out his hand for the coal and Dani handed it over with a smile. She stood up to go back to the alphabet wall and when she turned she found Peter standing in the doorway.</p><p>   “Hi there!” She smiled at him.</p><p>   “Look, Peter! I can write my name!” Miles said, now writing it with conviction across the tabletop, trying to fill it the way Flora had.</p><p>   “Mrs. O’Mara is a perfectly brilliant teacher,” Flora said, now writing her name on the table legs.</p><p>   “Why thank you, Flora,” Dani grinned at the girl.</p><p>   “Me.” Peter said, jabbing a finger at his own chest. “Me?”</p><p>   Dani looked at him. “You?”</p><p>   “He wants you to teach him,” Miles said without looking up from his frantic writing.</p><p>   “Oh! Well I—” Dani looked around the room. “There, the stool behind the counter. That can be your desk for the day, Peter.”</p><p>   He was across the room in a flash, settling onto the stool, sitting on his hands and looking every bit the eager student. He dwarfed the counter in front of him, he really was incredibly tall, but there was a boyish quality beneath his stubbled face and strong chest.</p><p>   Dani looked at Miles and Flora. “I’m going to work with Peter for a minute, and while I do I want you both to clean off your tables and start copying the alphabet.”</p><p>   “The whole thing?”</p><p>   “The whole thing, Miles.”</p><p>   They got to work doing just that, and Dani went around to stand beside Peter, handing him the coal. As soon as it was in his hand he was picking at it, breaking it apart. She took it back. “It’s to write with, not play with—”</p><p>   “He can’t help it,” Miles said absently, still scrubbing his table, “he doesn’t mean to fidget like that but his hands don’t always listen.”</p><p>   Peter was blinking down at the floor. Dani watched him for a moment before looking over at Miles.</p><p>   “How do you know that?” She asked.</p><p>   Miles shrugged. “I’ve known him forever. Know everything about him.”</p><p>   “Okay.” Dani was nodding, attempting to think on her feet. “Okay. No coal. We’re going to start with your finger. We’re going to pretend it’s a pen.”</p><p>   She helped Peter trace a P. Over and over and over she helped him. But every time she stepped back and encouraged him to do it on his own he just sat there. After a long time, after many failed attempts, she considered the possibility that he didn’t understand. That perhaps his mental acuity wouldn’t allow for new skills to be retained. But just as she was about to give up—let him down easily with something along the lines of <em>we’ll try again tomorrow</em>, he suddenly looked at her, making unwavering eye contact for only the second time since she’d met him.</p><p>   “I read.” He said it with conviction, like he needed her to understand him. “I read.”</p><p>   His eye contact lingered and there was such a light behind his eyes. Dani took out <em>Paradise Lost</em> and set it in front of him. Opened it up to the first page when he just stared at the closed cover. His eyes flicked over the page.</p><p>   Dani watched him. “You—you can read it?”</p><p>   “He can’t,” Miles said. He was kneeling on the armchair, bent over the table on his elbows, squinting at the makeshift blackboard as he copied down another letter. “Jamie tried to teach him once but he couldn’t learn.”</p><p>   Dani was watching Peter. His eyes were on the open book, flicking back and forth. Left to right, left to right. Something fluttered in Dani’s chest. “Seems you don’t know <em>everything</em> about him, Miles.” She glanced up to find Miles looking at her with a puzzled brow. “He can read. He’s reading.” <em>He’s not so simple.</em></p><p>   Suddenly Miles looked furious. “<em>I </em>want to read!” He shouted.</p><p>   That temper. Dani was going to have to do something with that as well. But for now she simply sighed.</p><p>   “Well, the first step is the alphabet, so,” she pointed at the tabletop, “keep copying.”</p><p>   She turned her attention back to Peter. Reading comprehension. She needed a way to test his reading comprehension. She had a glimmer of an idea. Maybe <em>he </em>couldn’t write, but she could. She closed the book and drew two trees in coal on the wood counter. Labeled one <em>forbidden </em>and the other <em>evergreen.</em></p><p>   “Which one?” She looked at Peter. “Which one is the story about?”</p><p>   He was rocking back and forth, chewing on his collar, but he was also sneaking glances at the countertop. Finally he leaned forward and tapped the tree labeled <em>forbidden </em>with a solitary finger.</p><p>   Something akin to exhilaration rushed into Dani. He wasn’t stupid, he was trapped. And Dani was going to find a way to help him break free.</p><p>   “Peter, that’s—”</p><p>   “What the fuck is this?”</p><p>   Dani looked up to find Jamie in the doorway looking angry. A day ago Dani wouldn’t have been surprised—a day ago she’d rather suspected that anger was Jamie’s baseline emotion. Her perpetual state of being. But then something had shifted and she’d been different and now Dani was staring at her dumbly because she’d given Dani her blessing to teach the children so why did she look angry enough to flip tables?</p><p>   “What are you doin’ with him?” Jamie was looking at Peter.</p><p>   “I’m—I’m teaching, I’m—he can read, did you know? He—and now I’m trying—”</p><p>   “I said you could teach the wee ones, didn’t say anythin’ about Peter, did I?”</p><p>   “No,” Dani kept her voice even, “but he can <em>read</em> and I think—”</p><p>   “He’s not a fuckin’ child.”</p><p>   “I—” Dani shook her head, completely confused by the sudden attack, “I know he isn’t, I just—”</p><p>   “Does it make him feel good, you think? Bein’ sat down at a desk like that? Bein’ spoken to like he’s a fuckin’ idiot?”</p><p>   Dani felt her jaw clenching. She reminded herself to breathe. “I’m trying to explain to you that I <em>don’t </em>think he’s a fu—” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think he’s an idiot.”</p><p>   Peter was responding to the sudden tension in the room, covering his ears and starting up with that high-pitched whine that would only grow louder the more stressed he became.</p><p>   “He’s not an experiment. Not some puzzle for you to crack. And he’s not to be disrespected like this again, I won’t allow it. Peter, come on, mate—” She pushed herself off of the door frame and nudged her head for Peter to follow her.</p><p>   He got up, still covering his ears and hurried passed her out the door.</p><p>   “He <em>asked me</em>,” Dani threw the words, hurled them across the room at Jamie’s back. “I didn’t <em>recruit </em>him, he came here himself and asked me to teach him.”</p><p>   Jamie turned back. “How fortunate for us all that you’re so obligin’.” She had that smile on again—amused and arrogant and Dani rather wanted to tear it from her face. “Afternoon.” Jamie touched the brim of her hat and then she was gone.</p><p>   Dani’s hand was in a tight ball and before she could think better of it she slammed her fist down on the counter, startling the children.</p><p>   “Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>   “That’s alright,” Miles said, turning back to his copying.</p><p>   “Peter’s had a shite lot handed him,” Flora said, and it was Dani’s turn to be startled.</p><p>   “Flora—you shouldn’t,” <em>use that language</em>, Dani almost said, but what was the point when her guardian was a walking fount of profanity.</p><p>   “It’s what Jamie says,” Flora continued. She was nearly done with her alphabet and she’d copied it precisely—her handwriting remarkably neat for someone who’d only just learned. “People have been unkind to Peter. They’ve teased him and been cruel to him, which I think is perfectly dreadful. Jamie shouldn’t have shouted at you—”</p><p>   “She lets her temper get the best of her,” Miles explained, and Dani huffed out a little laugh because <em>yes, she’d noticed,</em>“but she’s just protective of him. Of Peter. That’s all it is.” He set down his piece of coal. “I’ve finished.”</p><p>   “So have I,” said Flora.</p><p>   From where she stood behind the counter Dani could see their tabletops, both of their alphabets perfectly copied. They’d done beautifully. And suddenly it was all too much—the children, the sinking feeling she was growing attached to them, Peter’s inquisitive eyes, Jamie’s anger, the fact that despite being a <em>victim</em> Dani was just trying to do some good and why was she being continuously reprimanded and yelled at by this woman? Did she think she was morally superior somehow? The very notion was laughable. Yet in that moment laughter seemed as far away and unreachable as the sun. She rather felt like crying, actually. Her eyes were already beginning to well. She was lonely. She was still a little scared. She was homesick and she didn’t even know which home she longed for—Cottonwood, with its righteous veneer and clawing underbelly or Promise, a place she’d imagined to be beautiful but now that she’d seen the west, the <em>real </em>west, she wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t sure of anything.</p><p>   “Mrs. O’Mara?” Flora asked, concern in her voice.</p><p>   Dani sunk down onto the stool as the tears began to run rivers down her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she choked out, waving a hand away even as Flora was coming to her side.</p><p>   “What is it?” Flora was running her little hand up Dani’s back.</p><p>   “You mustn’t take it to heart when she yells like that,” Miles said, suddenly on her other side.</p><p>   Dani hid her face in her hands, trying to rein herself in. She blinked, her filthy skirt a brown and lavender blur through her tears.</p><p>   “It isn’t Jamie,” Dani said softly, “it’s just—” But it <em>was </em>Jamie. At least in part. Which was ridiculous because it shouldn’t have bothered Dani, the fact that the woman seemed to hate her so much. But it did. It bothered her a lot.</p><p>   “What is it then?” Miles asked, his voice equally full of concern.</p><p>   “I—” Dani blinked at her skirt, “I’m filthy. I really want to take a bath.” And then she dissolved into gulping sobs, both children folding into her to hug her the whole way through.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   That afternoon Dani learned that Flora was a force to be reckoned with when, as she put it, <em>a perfectly lovely person has been wronged. </em>It had been a sight—Flora, incensed and resolved, marching out of the makeshift schoolroom, confronting Jamie in front of the saloon, telling her she’d been rude and horrible and that she was to start heating water because <em>Mrs. O’Mara requires a bath.</em></p><p>   “Oh she does, does she?” Jamie had nodded absently, blown out a cloud of smoke and taken another drag. “Anythin’ else she requires? Steak dinner, perhaps? Spring holiday in the Orient?”</p><p>   “Decency!” Flora had punched her little fist toward the ground when she said it and from the classroom doorway Dani could’ve sworn she saw Jamie shrink an inch. Half an inch. A quarter at least.</p><p>   And shortly afterward Dani had found herself upstairs in the saloon’s bathroom, a clawfoot tub full of steaming water awaiting her. A simple blue dress was draped over a chair. Jamie hadn’t spoken to her as she’d led her upstairs and she stayed silent as she shut the door behind them, leaned back against it with her arms crossed.</p><p>   Dani waited, but Jamie just stood there, looking at the floor. “What are you…?”</p><p>   Jamie glanced up. “If I put the irons on you won’t be able to wash.”</p><p>   “We’re back to shackling?”</p><p>   “When you’re alone.”</p><p>   “I slept without them last night.”</p><p>   “I nailed your window shut yesterday afternoon.”</p><p>   Dani glared at her. <em>Of course she had. </em>She started angrily working at the top button of the vest, stopping to glance at Jamie, who was openly staring.</p><p>   “Are you going to stand there and watch me?” Dani heard the edge in her voice.</p><p>   “If you like.”</p><p>   “Why would I—<em>no</em>, of course I wouldn’t!”</p><p>   Jamie lips were twitching. “Alright,” she held up her palms, “no need to get flustered.” She turned around to face the door, giving Dani the chance to undress.</p><p>   “I’m not <em>flustered </em>I’m just—why would I want that? It’s an odd thing to suggest.” She went back to disrobing, keeping an eye on Jamie’s back to ensure she didn’t turn around.</p><p>   “If you say so.”</p><p>   Dani rolled her eyes and climbed into the tub. <em>God. </em>It was heaven. “You could wait outside, you know. In the hall.”</p><p>   “This window’s not nailed.”</p><p>   “I’m not going to run away <em>naked</em>.”</p><p>   “Pity. Would make catchin’ you a lot more fun. Also more slippery.”</p><p>   Dani’s cheeks flushed. “You’re—” But Dani didn’t know how to finish that sentence. <em>Baiting me? Teasing me? </em>It certainly wasn’t that Jamie was <em>flirting </em>with her.</p><p>   “I’m what?”</p><p><em>   I know you saw, </em>Dani wanted to say. Drag it out into the light so she could explain it away. How that very first night all it took was a press of the hips to ignite sparks in Dani, but it had been the exhaustion, the adrenaline, the chaos. <em>I’m not like that</em>, Dani wanted to say. <em>Oh, but you are, </em>another part of her wanted to reply.</p><p>   “Infuriating,” Dani settled on. “One minute you’re screaming at me and the next you’re—”</p><p>   “Watchin’ you peel your clothes off?”</p><p>   Dani looked up to find that Jamie had turned back around, arms crossed and back against the door again. Dani hugged her knees to her chest.</p><p>   “There’s soap just there,” Jamie pointed to a little table on the side of the tub.</p><p>   Dani nodded and reached for it, careful to angle herself in a way that still allowed for a modicum of modesty.</p><p>   She started lathering her legs, washing dirt and blood from her knee. The water was getting cloudy already but she hardly cared, it was absolutely perfect, washing the desert and the misery from her skin.</p><p>   “Somethin’ bad happened to him,” Jamie said, quite suddenly and out of nowhere.</p><p>   Dani turned her head to look at her.</p><p>   “Peter, I mean. Back in London. It was…” there was the tiniest wrinkle in her brow, the tiniest shake of her head as she seemed to search for the words, “unspeakable, is what it was. I can’t quite—” She shook her head. Then she looked up with a quick shrug. “I’m particular about how people treat him. But it’s possible,” she rocked up on the balls of her feet, squinting at the far wall, “that I…may have…rushed to judgment. With the whole,” she waved a hand, “teachin’ bit.”</p><p>   Dani squinted at her, half tempted to laugh. “Are you—was than an apology?”</p><p>   Jamie slid her eyes left then right. “Didn’t it…sound like an apology?”</p><p>   “Not really, no.” Dani went back to lathering. “But I accept.” She glanced at the door and caught Jamie smirking at the floor. “Are you going to throw another fit if he wanders back to the classroom tomorrow?”</p><p>   Jamie shook her head. “If he wants to join, I won’t stop him.” She sent Dani and a grin. “Who am I to discourage proper writin’ tutelage.”</p><p> </p><p>   When it was time for Dani to climb out of the tub Jamie approached with a woven towel, spreading it wide and averting her eyes. Dani looked up at her from the cooling water, clutching her knees.</p><p>   “Come on,” Jamie nodded down at her before looking away again.</p><p>   Dani stood, arms over her breasts and snagged the towel out of Jamie’s hands, clutching it to herself before Jamie had a chance to peek. Dani was rather surprised when she didn’t even try, not even to tease, she just slowly backed away, eyes on the far wall.</p><p>   The blue dress was soft and <em>clean </em>and Dani could’ve cried. She combed her fingers through her wet hair, luxuriating in the smells of rosewater and cotton.</p><p>   “Thank you for this,” she said when she was dressed and ready.</p><p>   Jamie was picking at a thread on her vest but she looked up, and Dani watched her eyes catch on her waist—the dress was tight around the middle and it accentuated her flat stomach, only to enhance her bust. She’d never worn anything quite as lowcut either, the way it dipped to reveal the tops of her breasts.</p><p>   “Alright?” Jamie asked, and Dani realized she’d been caught staring down at her own chest, adjusting the fabric, trying in vain to cover more of herself.</p><p>   “Oh—fine,” she laughed, “it’s just. This dress. It would’ve turned some heads in Cottonwood.” And led to a public shaming by the entire congregation.</p><p>   Jamie opened the door, glancing back at Dani, looking her up and down. Her tongue poked at the corner of her mouth and she raised an eyebrow. “It’s turnin’ heads here.”</p><p>   And then she was heading down the hall, leaving Dani to sort out her warm cheeks and the sudden surge of heat between her legs that had happened one too many times now for her to continue pretending that it wasn’t her body’s natural response to that flash of <em>something</em> she kept seeing in Jamie’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   That night it was Peter who went to retrieve Dani from her room for dinner. It had become routine, Dani eating with the others, despite the fact that in her initial rules-of-captivity speech Jamie had declared all meals would be brought to her upstairs. Not that Dani was complaining. The barren room seemed to grow smaller each day, the walls closing in on her inch by stifling inch with each passing hour. She would take whatever reprieve she could get.</p><p>   Downstairs the saloon was dark and empty. Peter was practically bouncing by the open entryway, and Dani could see firelight flickering in the main circle beyond. Then Dani realized what Peter was wearing. Freshly pressed black trousers, a crisp white shirt, a black vest. She hadn’t seen him in anything but dusty trousers and linen since the train. His fingers were by his mouth and he seemed to be stifling excited giggles.</p><p>   “Peter—” Dani stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s going on?”</p><p>   “Storytime!” He said it and then instantly covered his mouth as if he’d led slip a great secret. But then he whispered it again. “Storytime.”</p><p>   Dani, curious and amused, followed him outside and stopped short. There, in the center of the circle, was a wooden stage—an impressive structure that stretched nearly the width of the skybridge it was situated under, and stood a good two feet off of the ground. Upon closer observation it seemed to have been cobbled together with bits of this and that—old planks, crates, even a few window shutters. There were curtains too, hanging down from the skybridge to frame the stage, sewn together from all different types of fabric—burlap, bedsheets, patterned linens and old shirts. Most of the jam jar lights had been relocated to the front of the stage, lined up to brighten the stage, each with a candle flickering within. The velvet couch that usually sat in one corner of the saloon had been dragged out into the circle to face the stage, and Jamie was standing beside it, hands in her pockets, watching Dani take in the scene.</p><p>   “This is—” Dani just shook her head at the stage. “Did you build this?”</p><p>   “The two of us. Peter and I,” Jamie said. “The children like a bit of theatre now and again, so.” She took a hand from her pocket to point a thumb over her shoulder. “Been storin’ it by the stable, they haven’t asked for it in a while. Reckon they want to show off a bit for you.”</p><p>   Dani’s eyes finally settled on the woman standing there before her and how had she not noticed what Jamie was wearing earlier? Like Peter she was wearing a crisp white shirt, her cuffs rolled up her forearms. The shirt was taut and tucked neatly into a pair of black trousers, and the trousers were tucked into a pair of shiny black boots. She was wearing the leather suspenders again and there was something about the way they framed her figure, accentuating her muscled abdomen and the slight flair of her breasts. The top few buttons of her shirt were open and when Dani found her eyes trailing down the line of skin revealed there, she finally forced herself to look away.</p><p>   Jamie gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. There was a blanket there, draped over the back of the settee and a small table at the side, two pewter cups and a bottle of whiskey sitting on top.</p><p>   “The children set everythin’ up,” Jamie explained when she saw Dani looking. “Big to do, storytime is.”</p><p>   Dani settled onto the couch and Jamie plunked down next to her, pouring a bit of whiskey into each cup. The glow from the jam lights was casting long shadows, the dancing flames giving the illusion of warmth. In truth the sun had long since set and there was a chill sweeping in, bitter and bone-numbing. Nights on the desert were every bit as bitter cold as the days were scorching. Dani shivered and Jamie noticed. She reached to pull the blanket from behind Dani’s back, offering it to her. Dani smoothed it across her lap, and took the glass of whiskey Jamie was offering.</p><p>   “Drink’ll warm you quicker than the blanket,” she said, flashing a quick smile and downing her own drink like it was nothing.</p><p>   Dani stared into the cup, swirled the amber liquid around. It was the way Jamie had handed it to her, easy and casual, like there was nothing wrong with it at all. After a moment Dani looked up and found Jamie watching her, a wrinkle in her brow.</p><p>   “Don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” Jamie said.</p><p>   “I, um.” Dani shifted, feeling uneasy. Uncomfortable because it was clear Jamie thought the offered drink had offended Dani and that wasn’t it at all, it was—but <em>how</em>? How to explain that so many of her reactions weren’t <em>her</em>, they were her conditioning. Deep seated and hard to understand, never mind break free from. But she wanted to. Break free.</p><p>   Jamie was reaching to take the whiskey back so Dani pulled the cup toward herself, holding it between her palms.</p><p>   “It’s a sin—” She closed her eyes so she could get the words out without registering Jamie’s confusion and concern. “It <em>was </em>a sin in—it’s, in Cottonwood, it’s not allowed.” She opened her eyes. “Drinking, I mean.”</p><p>   Jamie whistled low. “Can see why you left.”</p><p>   Dani let out a little laugh.</p><p>   “Look, it’s not a problem, the children are fixin’ us plates before they take the stage, they’ll bring some water instead—”</p><p>   “No—I,” Dani shook her head, trying to dispel all the whispers of <em>evil </em>and <em>wrong </em>and<em> apostate </em>hissing inside her head. “I want to,” she suddenly said, firm and clear and raising Jamie’s eyebrows, “<em>I </em>don’t think it’s a sin, that’s not—I just. I’ve never done it before. But I want to try.”</p><p>   “Well,” Jamie retrieved the cup, keeping an arched eye on Dani as she poured most of the contents into her own cup, handing it back when there was just a sip left, “best to ease into it.” She threw back what she’d just poured into her cup, swallowing and letting out a little hiss. “Burns a bit, gotta do it quick, like.”</p><p>   Dani nodded, took a deep breath, and drank it all in one gulp. <em>Oh.</em> It did burn. It tore its way down her throat like liquid fire. She could feel her face contorting, realized she must look a sight, blinking in agony and trying not to let her eyes water. She shook her head, felt the discomfort begin to fade.</p><p>   She looked at Jamie. “It’s good,” she said, and Jamie let out an honest to God <em>laugh</em> and the warmth that bloomed in Dani’s chest had nothing to do with the whiskey.</p><p>   The children appeared with plates of food—hunks of fresh bread and some kind of spiced meat—setting them down on the table.</p><p>   “Look at you two!” Dani smiled at them.</p><p>   “We’ve a whole trove of costumes, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora smiled. “It’s perfectly inspiring, really, we’ll have to show you tomorrow.” She was wearing a navy vest with gold buttons and white trousers, flowers and vines drawn in coal up and down her arms, and Miles was dressed in all black, a curling mustache drawn in coal over his lip. After setting the plates down, they took to the stage.</p><p> </p><p>   Flora and Peter disappeared into the wings, and Miles slowly walked to the middle of the platform. Dani couldn’t help but smile at his presence—the way he commanded the audience’s attention with his straight back and puffed chest, his lively eyes and little grin. For a moment, the only sound was the soft fluttering of the candles. And then—</p><p>   “Welcome!” Miles boomed, “to Storytime. Tonight we present to you a tale in two acts,” Miles announced, clasping his hands behind his back. “Allow me, if you please, to set the scene. We begin in a dark and dreary land, far away, across the ocean.” He swiped his arm through the air, a theatrical flourish, and suddenly several bedsheets in different shades of blue were being pulled across the stage, tethered to a rope or string invisible to the audience. Someone offstage—Flora, it must’ve been—was worming the tethers, making the bedsheets roll like waves.</p><p>   Peter appeared on stage left, popping out from behind the curtain to set two large crates down atop the blue bedsheets.</p><p>   “Across the deep and churning sea, lies a harbor of boats and ships,” Miles said, loud and important, “and in that harbor is a force as dark as a total eclipse. In that darkness there sits a dock, and a house built just beyond, and in that house our players wait, plotting to abscond.”</p><p>   Flora appeared on the crates, her hands folded in front of her, and began speaking—less commanding than Miles, but effective all the same. “One cloudy night when all felt lost, our hero slipped in the door, and through the shadows she collected three, and then our players were four,” Flora said, and suddenly Miles was behind her, striking a heroic pose. Flora continued, “By knife and coin, she rescued them, the hero that came that day. Then by cover of night they took their leave, crept onto a boat headed far, far away.”</p><p>   Miles picked her up, carrying her to a miner’s cart that had just been rolled on from offstage. They climbed in, lifting a shovel that had been outfitted with a pillowcase to resemble a sail.</p><p>   Miles began reciting again. “The storms did batter and the winds did blow, but onward was their creed. The danger was worth the life ahead, on that they were all agreed. And so they sailed on and on, eyes ahead and nightmares behind. On a quest to search for a fabled place, a town they were determined to find.”</p><p>   The cart was attached to a tether as well, and offstage Peter began tugging them across, making it look as if they were sailing.</p><p>   Then it was Flora’s turn to recite. “She told them whispers of a tale, stories of a perfect city, where days are long and nights are short, and the sky is blue and pretty. And all the houses are made of flowers, and music carries on the breeze, the land is lush, the ground is soft and the people are happy as you please.”</p><p>   The blue bedsheets were tugged offstage, and Miles tugged at a rope hanging from the sky bridge and another bedsheet unfurled, painted to resemble a distant coastline. He turned to address the audience. “So it was decided that they would search, coast to coast, here and there, up and down, until they found their promised home, a place that’s called Bloom Town.” Miles’ voice took on a dark timbre. “The bad people came and sought them, followed them east to west. But our players were smart and clever and quick, outrunning them in their quest.”</p><p>   Flora stepped up beside him. “And one day when they reach it, that fabled land unseen, the baddies will never find them, they’ll be secreted amongst the green. Shrouded by a garden, warmed by sun and watered with dew, they’ll live in peace forever, and if you join them so can you.”</p><p>   Miles took several steps closer to the edge of the stage, his eyes lively and bright. “So if you have demons to vanquish, or scars to leave behind, you can follow the stars to the garden, on nights when the planets align. And once you’re there you can live and dream and never fear the night, because in Bloom Town all is well, all is good, and all is light.”</p><p>   They joined hands, bowing low, and Dani and Jamie burst into applause, Jamie sticking her fingers in her mouth and whistling. Peter came out for a quick bow, prompting more applause and cheering, and then the three quickly set the stage for act two, launching right into a tale of cloak and skullduggery, a promise kept and a villain defeated.</p><p>   The children were wonderful little actors, full of expression and liveliness, and yet, as act two commenced, Dani found herself watching Jamie instead of the stage. Her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck but she’d forgone her hat, and several tendrils had come loose on her forehead and by her ears. She looked softer in the candlelight and it was possible the whiskey was taking effect because Dani couldn’t look away. Just as her eyes had been drawn back to Jamie’s arms the day before, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Jamie’s face. Her sharp jaw. Her eyelashes. Her <em>mouth. </em></p><p>   Just then Jamie leaned in to Dani’s ear, her eyes still on the stage, smiling as she said, “This bit’s based on fact, but in truth it wasn’t nearly as bloody as the wee gremlins would have you believe.” She didn’t pull away after she spoke, she just stayed there, watching the stage but breathing mere inches from Dani’s neck, tickling a spot just below her jaw and Dani was utterly convinced that Jamie knew exactly what she was doing. How could she not, when the effect it was having was every bit on display as the children performing centerstage.</p><p>   Dani tried to keep her breathing even but it was impossible to hide the way her breaths had deepened. A quick peek down to her own chest confirmed just how obvious a state she was in—her breasts were surging with every inhalation, practically bursting from the tight confines of the bodice. She snuck Jamie a glance and froze. Jamie had been looking at her breasts, watching <em>her </em>looking down at her breasts, and when their gaze met Jamie’s nostrils flared and her eyes went dark. Dani bit her lip to keep from whimpering. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.</p><p>   Then Jamie was pulling away, turning back to watch the stage, and Dani wasn’t prepared for the depth of self-reflection it would take to work through the desperate disappointment, the utter loss she felt at the sudden distance between them.</p><p>   But then, her eyes never leaving the stage, Jamie’s hand suddenly crept beneath the blanket stretched across Dani’s lap. Then, with a look on her face that implied unwavering interest in the children’s play, Jamie hooked the toe of her boot around Dani’s ankle, tugging with a quick yank, forcing Dani’s legs apart, the thin cotton of her dress falling into the valley between. Under the blanket she took Dani’s right wrist and moved Dani’s hand, positioning it palm-up in Dani’s lap at the juncture of her own thighs. Right atop the epicenter of Dani’s need. Slowly Jamie began to stroke her fingers on top of Dani’s palm, drawing lazy circles, tracing lines to her fingertips and back down again. She slid her fingers between Dani’s, rubbing against the sensitive web of skin there, but when Dani went to close her hand around Jamie’s, to link them together, Jamie pulled her hand away and flattened Dani’s back out. Dani glanced at her, and Jamie took her eyes from the stage for a split second, just enough time to send Dani a look. And Dani understood. This wasn’t about tenderness; it was about need. Dani <em>needed</em> and Jamie knew it, so she was offering what she could. She wouldn’t touch where Dani truly wanted to be touched—she wouldn’t cross that line. But she would offer this: an illusion fit for the stage before them.</p><p>   There was a purposefulness to the way she was once again rubbing circles into Dani’s palm. Rhythmic circles. And maybe it was the thought that Dani’s hand was the only barrier keeping her from feeling Jamie’s fingers against her center. The knowledge that if she were to move her palm away those same circles would be drawn onto that aching spot between her thighs. Maybe that was why she slowly started to feel it. To feel the ghost of Jamie’s touch where she wanted it most. And maybe, Dani realized, that was the point. Wasn’t that how illusion worked? The mind falling freely into deception? Allowing itself to be tricked? <em>Wanting </em>to be tricked?</p><p>   Jamie was using only two fingers now and the circles were becoming tighter, more focused. Closing in on the center of her palm. It felt—it made no sense how it felt. It felt good. Incredible, even. It felt like more. More than it was. Truly, Dani was starved for touch, she had been for some time, but <em>this. </em>Everything was tingling, every nerve ending alive and eager for more. Her eyes kept sliding shut, only for her better judgment to force them back open.</p><p>   Jamie’s fingers had narrowed in on the center of her palm and they were rubbing a tight pattern there, hard and fast and rhythmic and there was no room left to pretend that it was anything else. Jamie was touching the center of Dani’s palm the way that Dani had occasionally touched herself when her need became too great in the secret darkness of her room back in Cottonwood. And Dani found that she was biting at her lower lip the same way she did when she was alone and trying to stay quiet because somehow that felt less shameful.</p><p>   Jamie was sneaking glances at her now, Dani could see her from the corner of her eye and the next time she glanced over Dani met her gaze head on, but she hadn’t been prepared for what she’d see. Jamie’s pupils were blown, her mouth hanging slightly open, her breaths coming heavily. The illusion was unraveling her too, and the realization sent another rush of wet heat between Dani’s legs as she choked back a whimper. <em>From this</em>, Dani thought. Just from her fingers on Dani’s hand. She bit down on her lip again, tried to hold back the dam. They were in public, she reminded herself, shrouded in darkness though they were, the others were still right there. But they’d already entered dangerous territory and Dani was hurtling toward the edge. She bit her lip even harder.</p><p>   Jamie leaned into her ear as her fingers kept on with their relentless stroking. “Don’t fight it,” she husked, the rasp in her whisper going straight to Dani’s core. “You can. If you need to, you can."</p><p>   And Dani reacted—she couldn’t have stopped herself had she tried—her pelvis lifting slightly, pressing herself against the back of her own hand. There was a fluttering and she suddenly realized it was going to happen, she was going to come undone.</p><p>   There was a sharp inhale against her ear and then Jamie was whispering with ferocity, “Fuck, you’re—”</p><p>   “The end!” Miles shouted, and he might as well have taken his revolver to a glass wall, the way the moment shattered down around them.</p><p>   Jamie was suddenly at the other end of the couch, clapping and whistling for the children while Dani sat there dumbly, trying to process <em>what just happened</em>—what had <em>almost </em>happened—and it took a long moment for her to collect herself enough to join in the applause.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>   Later, when the others had gone upstairs to wash up and get ready for bed, Dani lingered and helped Jamie bring the couch back into the saloon. They went back to blow out the jar lights, Jamie started at one end of the stage, Dani at the other, and when they met in the middle Dani reached out for Jamie’s wrist before she could walk away.</p><p>   Jamie looked apprehensive, the air had been crackling between them since the play, but that wasn’t why Dani had stopped her—she wasn’t ready to drag <em>that </em>into the open yet, and the way she was looking at her it seemed Jamie wasn’t either.</p><p>   Dani quickly sputtered out an explanation. “I—I owe you an apology.”</p><p>   She looked surprised. “What for?”</p><p>   “The children.” Dani wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt like crying, but there was no hiding the waiver in her voice. “I was wrong. They belong with you. They’re, um. They’re—” She let out a sound, part cry, part laugh, and maybe even part bewilderment because it wasn’t supposed to unfold like this, whatever it was unfolding between Dani and this woman who was holding her against her will. This woman who she was supposed to be running from. This woman who she was supposed to hate. “They’re <em>lucky </em>to have you,” Dani finally managed. She swallowed and met Jamie’s eyes.</p><p>   Jamie was watching her, searching her face and Dani felt naked under her gaze. Felt like her entire being was laid bare for Jamie to see.</p><p>   Jamie’s eyes narrowed and then she was reaching up, sliding her hand against Dani’s jaw, holding her there. Dani’s heart was beating backwards and she was terrified—terrified to keep looking at Jamie, terrified that one more desperate look and they’d have no choice but to confront whatever this was. So instead she stared down at Jamie’s collarbone, even as Jamie’s thumb ventured up to her mouth, slowly tracing her lower lip.</p><p>   Dani’s lips parted under Jamie’s touch and then her eyes were drawn back up to Jamie’s face. Jamie was looking at Dani’s mouth, a muscle working in her jaw. And then suddenly she pulled her hand away. Clenched and flexed it midair like it’d been burned. Dropped it to her side. Shook her head, one quick jerk. She stepped back, sliding her hands into her pockets.</p><p>   “Your husband’s likely got the letter by now,” she said, sharp and businesslike and making Dani’s head spin. “Be over soon enough, all this.”</p><p>   Dani realized she was shaking her head.  “I don’t—” <em>Want it to be? </em>That wasn’t quite it—not exactly. What she meant was <em>but I don’t want him.</em> What she meant was <em>I haven’t seen him for two years and I haven’t loved him for longer—</em>but in the end, she wound up saying, “I miss him,” cringing as the words came out of context and unexpectedly.</p><p>   Jamie took another step back, nodding.</p><p><em>   No, </em>Dani wanted to say, <em>that’s not what I meant</em>—what she’d meant was <em>I know I should miss him, but I don’t</em>. But the light in Jamie’s eyes had faded and the chance to fix it, to stitch the evening back to when there’d been heat and possibility, was vanishing in the air like smoke from the jar lights. And how could Dani fix that statement without making a different one? A bolder one?</p><p>   So she stayed quiet, and followed Jamie inside. Up the stairs. Responded with a small smile when Jamie said <em>night, then</em>at Dani’s bedroom door. Stood for a moment, listening as Jamie turned the lock. The hard click of the bolt was a reminder. A necessary one. She was a prisoner and there was nothing romantic about it. This was no fairytale.</p><p>   She sat down on the bed, ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted to go to the door, she felt drawn there, wanted to bang a fist against it and demand that Jamie finish what she’d started beneath the blanket. Demand that she answer all the questions her touch had given rise to in Dani. Demand that she come back and just. Just talk with her for a little while. Just sit, even. If only for a few minutes. <em>Please.</em></p><p>   It wasn’t until long moments later, when there were suddenly footsteps outside her door that slowly faded down the hall, that Dani realized Jamie had just been standing there, silent and waiting on the other side, the entire time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your comments have all been incredible and each one has made me smile, gonna respond to everyone soon, I promise!</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
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  <strong>Miles remembers. Bits and pieces, at least. More than I thought. They did one of their storytime bits the other night, came up with a little rhyme, the two of them did, told the story of when we left. Fled, rather. The first half was innocent enough but then act two comes round and he’s talking about bodies in the attic and throats sliced open and blood as thick and sticky as jam. Christ. He’s never spoken of it before and I just assumed he’d been too young. Then he puts it out there on the fucking stage like it’s a goddamn penny dreadful. The girl was watching the whole thing too. Fucking fool that I am I even mentioned the story was based in truth. Course that was before Miles got to the dodgier bits. Had to distract her after that, can’t have her terrified of me. Then again. Could make it easier. Reckon she wouldn’t try to run again if she knew the carnage I left behind in that fucking hell hole of a house. Anyway, the girl’s lonely, starved for a bit of attention, it was easy enough to distract her <strike>by taking her hand and putting it</strike> and I don’t think she took in too much of the play in the end. She’s been here a week, the girl has. Halfway done with all this shite. </strong>
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  <strong>   -J</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Once the children had the alphabet down, once they’d grasped how to sound out words phonetically, they were downright unstoppable. Dani had cleared the shelving away from the other unused wall in the haberdashery just to give them more space to write. Flora was writing a short story about Totem growing wings. Miles was writing another play for Storytime. Their handwriting had plenty of room for improvement and they were constantly calling across the room for Dani to spell out certain words for them (<em>I just spelled ‘lying’ for you, Flora, so think—how would you go about spelling ‘flying’? You can figure this out—sound out the word—yes! That’s right!</em> <em>Stop scowling, Miles, you’re clever too), </em>but on the whole they’d progressed rather spectacularly over the course of just a handful of days. So much so that Dani was able to put most of her focus on Peter. He would read Paradise Lost when she put it in front of him, he’d look away when he’d finished a page and Dani would turn to the next for him. He was comprehending it as well, all of it—she’d continued to test him, drawing little pictures and having him point. But he wouldn’t initiate the reading or turn the pages himself, no matter how much she encouraged.</p><p>“If he finds religion Jamie will have something to say about it,” Miles said, eyeing Dani and Peter from across the room.</p><p>“It’s the only book we have,” Dani said, trying to remember it wasn’t <em>Miles</em>’ fault that Jamie found it necessary to provide daily commentary on Dani’s schooling choices for the others. “If she has a problem with it she can ride to the nearest outpost and bring back whatever literature she finds more palatable. Assuming she’s capable of discerning that sort of thing.”</p><p>Miles shrugged. “She likes those pulp serials about evil villains and clever heroes. You know. The ones with naked ladies on the cover.”</p><p>Dani dredged up a smile from somewhere deep within. “Lovely.” She turned back to Peter and the book. “I imagine we’ll stick to my choice in materials then, wouldn’t you say?” She’d muttered it to Peter, a look in her eye like they were sharing a joke—she hadn’t thought much about it but then suddenly Peter’s lips twitched and he giggled. She had that feeling again—the nagging suspicion that he was all there, just…jumbled, somehow.</p><p>The door banged open.</p><p>“Full moon tonight!” Jamie shouted from the doorway, sounding bizarrely gleeful and then standing there expectantly, as if the announcement should have incited similar joy in everyone.</p><p>“Kind of you to bring the news yourself, Galileo.” Dani didn’t look up from Peter’s lesson, drawing a rough outline of what she hoped looked like an archangel on the counter. Things had been strange with Jamie since the other night. Since Storytime. Not that things had ever been normal to begin with, but there was a tension there now. A distance. Like they were stuck in a whirlpool, being tugged toward something inevitable, but they were both swimming like mad on opposite sides of the perimeter, watching each other from across the way as the dark plunging vortex swirled between them.</p><p>“Full moon,” Jamie said again, this time directly to Miles and Flora.</p><p>The children began to clean up their tabletops, scrubbing the day’s lesson away and lining up their pieces of coal in the top corner.</p><p>“We’re not done here,” Dani said.</p><p>"It’s a full moon, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said. “We’ve got to get ready.”</p><p>“Ready for what?”</p><p>“Ritual sacrifice,” Jamie said casually, taking a hand out of her pocket to gesture at Dani. “Should get ready yourself.”</p><p>Dani made a face. “To join you for some sort of pagan animal sacrifice? No, thank you.”</p><p>"Who said anythin’ about animals?” She flashed a grin. “Scrub up. The moon gods don’t like a dirty offerin’.” She spun and headed back to the street.</p><p>            Dani shook her head at Jamie’s back. The classroom emptied and she followed them to where the horses were waiting, tied up to the railing of the saloon’s porch. They all had packs on them—rifles, canteens and what appeared to be plants—little green leaves poking out from the bulging saddle bags. A jarring sight considering Dani hadn’t seen a single green leaf since the moment the train had first entered the territory.</p><p>“You’re really going somewhere?” Dani approached Jamie, who was fixing Moon’s saddle and running a hand along her neck. “For the full moon?”</p><p>“It’s tradition, we do it every month,” Miles said, suddenly appearing on the porch wearing his own wide brimmed hat. “First we have our training and then when the sun goes down we have the ceremony.” He’d changed into loose trousers and a stained linen shirt. Flora appeared beside him wearing something similar.</p><p>“Training?” Dani eyed them.</p><p>“It’s like the lessons you give us, I suppose,” Miles said, his forehead worrying as he thought about it, “but less proper.”</p><p>“Less borin’,” Jamie muttered, but only Dani heard her.</p><p>“You should come with us,” Miles said, “Jamie can teach you, too!”</p><p>Flora was suddenly tripping over herself with excitement. “Oh, you simply <em>must</em> join us, Mrs. O’Mara, Jamie is a perfectly marvelous teacher and I’m sure she’ll be delighted to teach you too, won’t you, Jamie?”</p><p>Jamie turned around, leaning back against Moon, her arms crossed as she looked Dani up and down. The coal around her eyes was newly drawn and it made her eyes sharper, more intense. More cutting, when she raised a brow and scoffed.</p><p>“What?” Dani said flatly. “What now?”</p><p>“Just the idea of teachin’ you.” Jamie waved a hand.</p><p>“The idea of teaching me is amusing?” Dani had begun doing this—pushing back. She was sick of the looks, the sneers, the arrogance. <em>The mixed signals. </em></p><p>“Bit hard to imagine you joinin’ in, yeah. Out there,” Jamie nodded in the general direction of the desert, “we’re not sittin’ round readin’ storybooks. They’re learnin’ how to shoot, how to ride. How to survive.”</p><p>“And I’m too—what? Too delicate? Too naïve? Too stupid to learn how to survive?”</p><p>Jamie cocked her head and smirked at the ground. “Your words.”</p><p>"Stop it, Jamie. Honestly,” Flora said, climbing into Totem’s saddle. “Mrs. O’Mara, you’re none of those things, you’re perfectly capable, and you can ride out with me if you like.” She nodded to the space in the saddle behind her.</p><p>“Thank you, Flora,” Dani said, her eyes on Jamie, “but I think I’ll stay behind and keep an eye on things here.”</p><p>Jamie made a face. “How fuckin’ daft you think I am? Don’t fancy chasin’ you cross the desert tonight so go get changed, we need to head out.”</p><p>“Changed?”</p><p>“No more ridin’ sidesaddle. Trousers are waitin’ in your room.”</p><p>“I don’t wear trousers.”</p><p>“Then keep the fuckin’ dress and climb on but you’re not ridin’ sidesaddle.”</p><p>“Why does it matter how I—”</p><p>“Cause I fuckin’ said so.”</p><p>“Why have me ride at all when you could just hitch me to the saddle like livestock—”</p><p>“Perfect idea, I’ll get a rope—”</p><p>“Stop it!” Miles shouted suddenly. “You’re always fighting, why are you always fighting?”</p><p>Dani was glaring and Jamie was glaring back.</p><p>Miles climbed up into his saddle and looked down at Dani. “We don’t have a proper sidesaddle and it’s harder for the horses without it. It’s easier for them when the weight’s evenly—dis…disputed?” He looked at Jamie.</p><p>“Distributed,” she muttered.</p><p>Dani looked at him and nodded before sending Jamie one last glare. “That’s all you had to say.” She walked around to Totem’s side, slid a foot into the stirrup.</p><p>“You really won’t wear trousers?” Flora asked, looking concerned. “It’s just—out past town there are scorpions, horrid nasty little venomous creatures, and they like to crawl up the inside of your leg if you aren’t wearing the proper—”</p><p>Dani didn’t need to hear the rest of that sentence to be convinced, and ten minutes later she was in the saddle behind Flora, wearing a pair of brown trousers and a fitted linen shirt with brass buttons, feeling like a foreigner in her own skin.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The sun sizzled above them as they rode, Jamie and Miles ahead, everyone else following behind. After some time they arrived at a ridge overlooking a great expanse of flat ground. The horses seemed to know the way, carefully navigating the slope down to the flats below.</p><p>“These,” Flora said, twisting in the saddle to look up at Dani, “are the Proving Grounds.”</p><p>There were targets painted onto pieces of wood, set up at various distances. Someone had dressed several cacti to resemble humans.</p><p>Jamie dismounted first, untying a length of rope from the saddle. “Miles, target practice.”</p><p>Miles nodded and kicked Hooper into a gallop, taking out his revolver as he headed for the painted targets.</p><p>Jamie watched him for a moment before turning back. “Flora, you’re with me on ropes first.”</p><p>“I hate ropes,” Flora whined.</p><p>“Well, your shite at them. Get better and it won’t be such a chore.”</p><p>Flora groaned and grudgingly took the rope Jamie was handing her.</p><p>“Peter,” Jamie said, looking up at him in the saddle, “find some shade for Silver and keep an eye on this one.” She glanced at Dani before nudging Moon into a gallop, shouting over her shoulder for Flora to follow.</p><p> </p><p>Dani settled down beside Peter in the meager shade of the ridge to watch the action unfold. Miles wove Hooper through the targets at a gallop, shooting at each one and not missing a single bullseye, sending up a spray of woodchips with each shot. When he’d made it through the entire course he turned Hooper on a dime, looking back at his success and holding his revolver up with a cheer.</p><p>“You’re dead,” Jamie said from where she was helping Flora tie a knot in a length of rope.</p><p>“I am not,” Miles gestured at the targets, sending Jamie a look. “Perfect hit, every time.”</p><p>“And then at the end you turned round to gloat. Someone could’ve been waitin’ behind a rock for that very moment when you turned.”</p><p>“They’re targets, not people.”</p><p>“What do you reckon I’m havin’ you train for? Fun?” Jamie shook her head. “You stop to gloat, you get shot. Do it again.”</p><p>Miles walked Hooper back to the start of the course, grumbling the whole way. Jamie turned back to Flora and began demonstrating how to hold the rope, how to swing the looped length of it overhead, tossing it to lasso a nearby cactus.</p><p>Dani looked at Peter. He was blinking down at the ground. Their sliver of shade was barely enough to offer reprieve from the heat.</p><p>“This is our day, then?” She asked softly, looking over at the training session. “They drag us out here and make us watch while they have all the fun?”</p><p>She hadn’t been expecting an answer but suddenly Peter was nodding and saying, “They have the fun.”</p><p>Dani smiled. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”</p><p>Peter was back to blinking at the ground.</p><p>“I bet we could take them,” Dani narrowed her eyes at Jamie’s back before sending Peter a smile. “In a fight, I mean. Between your brute strength and my utter desperation I think we’d make a formidable team if we took them on.”</p><p>“No fighting,” Peter said, shaking his head wildly. “No fighting.”</p><p>“Oh, I wasn’t—“ Dani touched his arm and he stopped shaking his head. “I wasn’t serious. I was just, you know—” she raised a shoulder, “just talking.”</p><p>“Always fighting.” Peter surprised Dani by saying it, his eyes fixed on Jamie’s back.</p><p>“Jamie?”</p><p>“You!” Peter said, looking incredibly grumpy as he said it, and Dani understood.</p><p>“Both of us. Ah. Well—” <em>She’s awful. </em>“You’re right. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Peter nodded.</p><p>Dani pulled out Paradise Lost. She’d begun making a habit of bringing it everywhere, it seemed to calm Peter almost as easily as his toy horse. She opened it up to the page they’d left off on and spread it in front of him.</p><p>Several moments later the book was cast in shadows and Dani looked up to see Jamie peering down at them.</p><p>“What’s this?”</p><p>“The book we’re reading. I tried to tell you the other day—”</p><p>“Right. Sunday School.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Religious twaddle. Bullshit.”</p><p>“It’s a poem, actually. And certainly it’s basis is in Biblical doctrine but if you’d listened when I tried to explain it the other day you would know that it isn’t <em>religious</em> per se, it’s allegorical. In fact Satan is given a fair shake in this version—"</p><p>“You fuckin’ snob.”</p><p>Dani had to shield her eyes from the sun with a hand when she looked up. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“You are. You’re a snob. Think you’re better than me, all stuffy and intellectual, like. You reckon you’re smarter because you’re a teacher and I talk like somethin’ growin’ on the underside of the docks. Have you know though, I’m fuckin’ smart.”</p><p>“I’m sure you are. I don’t—there’s different types of intelligence.”</p><p>“Different types, are there?” Jamie squinted one eye, tamping down a smile, “I suppose this is where you tell me I’ve got street smarts and you’ve got book smarts, and then you’ll try to make me feel better about my own ignorance by puttin’ a silver linin’ on my horrid and humble beginnin’.” She waited. “On the right track, am I?”</p><p>“Well—” <em>Yes. </em>“No, not entirely—I mean, not in the way you’ve described. You make it sound like a <em>bad </em>thing, what I was trying to say—”</p><p>“It is a bad thing. Assumin’ things about people is always a bad thing, wouldn’t you reckon?”</p><p>Dani sensed a trap. She stayed quiet.</p><p>“Pitchin’ intelligence like it’s either or when it should be both. What’s the point of book smarts if you can’t ride a fuckin’ train without landin’ yourself in captivity?”</p><p>“Okay, firstly, that’s rude—”</p><p>“Know what’s rude? Explainin’ the plot of Paradise Lost to me like it’s my first fuckin’ day on the planet.”</p><p>“Apologies, I didn’t realize you were a Milton enthusiast—”</p><p>“I’m not, I think his work is shite.”</p><p>Dani narrowed her eyes. “So—you’ve read it?”</p><p>“Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord envy them that?”</p><p>So she had read it. <em>Touché. </em>Not that Dani would let her know she’d managed to impress.</p><p>Dani let a silent moment slide by before sighing deeply. “Was there something you needed?”</p><p>The question seemed to jog Jamie’s memory. “Yes, actually. You. Come on.”</p><p>Dani left the book with Peter, following after her. “Why?”</p><p>Jamie didn’t answer, she just led her to one of the targets on the far side of the Proving Grounds. Suddenly she took her revolver from its holster and blasted a shot at the target, hitting it directly in the middle, bits of shrapnel flying in every direction when the bullet hit.</p><p>Dani eyed her after recovering from the noise of the blast.</p><p>Jamie opened the cylinder, checking for God knew what and snapping it back in place before holding the gun out for Dani.</p><p>“Your turn.”</p><p>Dani didn’t take it. “I’m all set.”</p><p>Jamie grabbed her wrist and forced her hand around the revolver. “Stop fightin’ me on everythin’, I’m tryin’ to do you a favor.”</p><p>“Don’t you think it goes against your interests? Teaching me to shoot?” Dani asked. “How can you be sure I won’t kill you in your sleep?”</p><p>Jamie smirked. “Because you don’t want to kill me.”</p><p>Dani rolled her eyes. “It comes and goes.”</p><p>“Here,” Jamie said, positioning her arm. “Safety,” she flicked the lever up and down, demonstrating, “and trigger. This gun’s got a bit of a kick, nothin’ like that shotgun you blasted though so you’ll be fine. Go ahead—”</p><p>Dani squeezed her finger and shot. Wherever the bullet went, it was nowhere near the target.</p><p>Jamie demonstrated again, hitting the bullseye, then handed the gun back to Dani, standing behind her, helping her aim. Dani missed again.</p><p>“Don’t get frustrated,” Jamie said when Dani groaned. “Gotta stare down the target, like. Set your intention. Everythin’ is energy, if you’re frantic and screwin’ with the energy fields the bullets gonna be confused. Gotta set your intention and want it bad enough.”</p><p>“You make it sound like sorcery.”</p><p>“It is, a bit,” Jamie smiled. “Try again.”</p><p>Dani did. She set her intention. Stared down the bullseye, taunting her in the near distance. She wanted it. She wanted it badly. She took the shot. A cactus several yards beyond the target and a good ten feet to the left of it exploded with the force of the bullet.</p><p>“Damnit.”</p><p>Jamie did a double take at Dani’s language, smirking. “’S fine, just need practice is all.”</p><p>They worked at it—Jamie correcting her positioning, her aim, the tilt of her head. They might have been at it an hour or more, but no matter how hard she tried, Dani didn’t manage to strike the target. Not once.</p><p>It ended in laughter.</p><p>“I’m hopeless,” Dani said when Jamie made a comment about how they were running out of bullets.</p><p>“Might be,” Jamie agreed with a sigh and a shrug of her eyebrows. “Probably just need the right motivation.”</p><p>“What do you use for motivation? It’s just a target—”</p><p>“Have to pretend it’s somethin’ else. Somethin’ you want. Like all that matters in the world is hittin’ that one spot.”</p><p>“And that works?”</p><p>Jamie smiled, sly and mischevious as she leaned in, her nose brushing against Dani’s hair as she whispered, “I never miss, do I? When I want somethin’ bad enough.”</p><p>And just like that she was off to help Flora untangle her rope from a cactus, leaving Dani panting in the desert sun.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Later, Jamie announced that it was time to move farther down the ridge. There was collection of desert bushes and cacti in the distance, and they headed in that direction.</p><p>Past the brush and cacti a large pit had been dug into the ground and lined with stones. The hole was like a massive bowl in the ground, as deep and wide as Peter was tall. The children set about collecting twigs and dried grass, dumping armfuls into the pit. There was a pile of wood stacked alongside a large cactus, quite obviously not part of the natural landscape, and Jamie began piling up armfuls and bringing them over to the hole. She seemed to notice Dani eyeing her.</p><p>“Fire pit,” she explained. “For the ceremony.”</p><p>“You’re—” Dani followed her to the edge of the hole, “you’re really having a ceremony?”</p><p>“Why of course we are, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said, appearing with another armful of dried brush. “It’s tradition!”</p><p>Jamie arched a brow as she passed by, headed back to the woodpile. “Gonna stand there and gawk or are you gonna help?”</p><p>Dani rolled her eyes. It was a testament to Jamie’s arrogance that with a single look she could succeed in making Dani feel stupid for not magically divining the plan or purpose of a particular task and lazy for not heartily joining in. She may have been a captive but she wasn’t a slave. She repeated that particular mantra to herself several times over, even as she walked to the woodpile and began piling her arms high. She glared at Jamie in passing and Jamie caught her—her eyes flicked up and her mouth pulled down like she was fighting a smile. If Dani’s arms hadn’t been full she would’ve smacked the logs right out of Jamie’s hands.</p><p>The sun began to set as they put the finishing touches on the fire pit, readying it for what would surely be quite the blaze. The children were arguing over the <em>proper way </em>to lay the kindling and Dani turned away from their bickering only to be sucker-punched by the scene before her.</p><p>The endless land had been dyed a muddy orange beneath the falling sun, and distant rocks and cacti were black silhouettes against the sky. <em>The sky. </em>The horizon looked to be on fire, the way the clouds collected there seemed to pulse and glow like orange embers, ringed with bright golden light. Above the setting sun the rest of the sky was an ombre backdrop—vivid yellows softening into mustards, mustards blending into peaches and a gentle shade of plum that bled over to an expanse of blue, deepest and darkest directly overhead. The clouds looked like the hydrangea bushes that bloomed at the front entry of her father’s church every summer, puffy and dappled in grays and purples, deep pinks and burgundies. Dani looked and looked.</p><p>“Once, when I was small,” Jamie said, suddenly standing there beside her, watching the sunset with crossed arms, “I saw a sunset like this back home.” She gave a quick half-shrug. “Not exactly like this, mind—no such thing as a sunset like this in London. But it was grand. Majestic in a way the fuckin’ wharf never was. The docks were always disgustin’, everythin’ about that place—the smells, the people. Like all the shite, all the misery in the whole of the country came to congregate there. Criminals and beggars and whores and addicts and the fuckin’ monsters who crawled down from their lofty castles to exploit them. The sounds there—the things you could hear. Cryin’ and pleadin’ and screamin’ and ramblin’ from those already lost their minds to that hell. Fuckin’ miserable, that place. Evil. It was never quiet, save for one time. That sunset. The colors—it was a bloody paintin’, I swear I’ve never seen such a thing since, the way the clouds were streaked orange to black and every color between. And I’ll never forget the way it stopped time. Every last person on that wharf stopped what they were doin’—stopped yellin’ at each other, stopped stealin’, stopped swearin’, stopped cryin’, stopped barterin’, stopped movin’, stopped <em>livin’</em>, just to look. Minutes the wharf was dead quiet. Minutes we all stood round, magistrate next to whore, drunken sailor next to infant, thief next to copper. Everyone just fuckin’ starin’ at that sky. I’m not one for poetry but there was somethin’ in that. The way nothin’ else mattered for a moment, the way we were all just,” she gave a slow shrug, shaking her head, “the same.” She glanced at Dani before looking back out across the horizon. “Reckon that’s why people believe in God. Somethin’ to unify us all amidst this fuckin’ chaos down here.”</p><p>Dani shook her head. “That’s not why people believe in God,” she looked at Jamie, “but it should be.”</p><p>Time slipped by, seconds, maybe longer, and they stared at each other the way they’d stared at the sky. Sometimes Jamie looked at her and Dani swore she saw hatred there, but others times there was want, heat, need. Dani was sure of it. She felt it herself. But there were also times like this when Jamie was looking at her with something more akin to sorrow. Grief. Her eyes were heavy with it, as if she were mourning something that Dani couldn’t quite understand. Perhaps she was mourning the possibility of something between them. Or, rather, the impossibility of it.  </p><p>“What—” <em>is this, this thing between us, </em>Dani started to ask, but just then there was a distant screech from across the land, followed by the reverberating sound of drums. Dani whipped around to face the direction the noise was coming from. Then she heard hooves—the pounding of hooves drawing closer—and her stomach dropped to her knees while her heart clawed up her throat.</p><p>“They’re coming!” Flora cried, but Dani was too frantic to gauge whether it was glee or terror causing her little voice to tremble.</p><p>Jamie started to walk over to the fire pit but Dani reached out, clutching her arm and Jamie froze, looking down where Dani was latched onto her.</p><p>“Is it—” Even as she tried to ask she couldn’t keep her eyes from desperately darting to and fro—could they hide on the ridge? <em>In </em>the fire pit? “Is it <em>them</em>?”</p><p>Jamie was looking at her as though she was half crazed and mostly an idiot. The ground was shuddering with the approaching riders and <em>God, </em>there had to be a hundred of them.</p><p>Jamie pulled away without answering and Dani scrambled after her.</p><p>“Jamie—is it—<em>who? </em>What’s happening? Who’s coming?”</p><p>Jamie ignored her but Miles took her hand.</p><p>“The ceremony, Mrs. O’Mara, just as we’ve said!” He sounded downright cheerful, and Dani’s mind suddenly flashed back to Jamie’s earlier joke about Dani and a human sacrifice. It <em>had </em>been a joke. <em>Hadn’t it?</em></p><p>Just then, lit by the last remnants of golden sunlight, a horde of riders breached past the far side of the ridge, screeching and hollering and approaching at a thunderous gallop. They closed in on them and all hope of hiding, of evading certain death, evaporated in the dusk. They were circling them now, a gigantic circle of riders going round and round, and Dani mustered every ounce of bravery—she would not die afraid—and she looked at them.</p><p>The riders were in various states of undress—some of the men were barely wearing any sort of trouser at all, never mind shirt. Their hair was long and black and sleek and it rippled behind each rider as they rode. The horses were streaked with paint, there were baubles—beads, perhaps—decorating the horses’ manes and tails.</p><p>It was ironic, and Dani clasped desperately to the thought because even irony was better than despair, that she should die at the hands of Indians when it was the very thing she feared the most.</p><p>The riders slowed, the hollering quieted and a pair of riders, a man and a woman, dismounted and approached Jamie. Dani had the sudden passing fear that they knew Jamie was the leader and they were going to kill her first, but then—and it took some time for Dani’s brain to accept what she was seeing—Jamie’s face cracked into a wide grin and she was <em>hugging </em>the pair of them, all three laughing and back-patting like old friends.</p><p>“<em>Hakaniyun</em>!” Jamie said, embracing the woman once again.</p><p>“<em>Hakaniyun</em>, Jamie!” The woman smiled, holding Jamie at an arm’s length and looking her up and down before uttering a string of words in her foreign tongue that had both Jamie and the man laughing.</p><p>They were older, the pair of them, wrinkled and deeply tan with hair as black as ink, streaked here and there with silver. Their faces suddenly lit up when the children approached.</p><p>“<em>Daikwahni Kima</em>!” Miles said, wrapping his arms around the woman as the man reached out a muscled arm, covered in tattoos, to ruffle Miles’ hair, his other arm reaching out to Flora who was already moving in to hug him.</p><p>The woman was short and rather round with dark, twinkling eyes and a mischievous smirk that went far in explaining the camaraderie she seemed to have with Jamie. She seemed to take great delight in the children, bending down to greet Miles and Flora like grandchildren she’d gone too long without seeing, chattering over how tall Flora had gotten, how handsome Miles was. The words might have been foreign but the way she looked them up and down, pinching their chins and measuring Flora’s height against her own waist was universal, and Dani was reeling. These people weren’t just friends, they were treating each other like <em>family.</em></p><p>The other riders were still atop their horsebacks, watching the reunion, and Peter wandered over, giving the man and woman his own clumsy hug.</p><p>“<em>Mukua nummikkinnumpu</em>,” the man said to Peter, and then he <em>bowed</em>—a small dip, but reverent nonetheless, as similar murmurs rippled through the circle of riders. Dani glanced around. They were all dipping their heads at Peter, who, for his part, was blushing and grinning at the ground as he chewed on one of his shirt’s wooden toggles.</p><p>Then the pair noticed Dani. The woman looked at Jamie, asking something in her foreign tongue. Jamie smirked and shook her head, answering whatever had been asked in the same language it had been asked in. Then the woman was approaching Dani, and Dani could’ve passed out.</p><p>The woman reached out for Dani’s hands, clutching them, squeezing them with great strength.</p><p><em>“Hakaniyun</em>,” she said, a truly earnest smile on her face. “<em>Hakaniyun</em>,” she repeated, then struggled to say, “Dani?”, glancing over her shoulder at Jamie, who nodded encouragingly.</p><p>Flora popped up beside them.</p><p>“She’s saying hello,” Flora said, “in her language. In Kuttuhsippeh <em>hakaniyun</em> means hello, how are you.”</p><p>Dani swallowed. This was…all happening quite quickly. The woman was still clenching her hands and Dani was trying her best not to panic but her grasp was really somewhat impressive and it was starting to become constricting.</p><p>Dani glanced at Flora. “How do I say it back to her?”</p><p>“<em>Haka-ni-yun,</em>” Flora said, seeming to delight in being the teacher for once. “And you should say <em>Daikwahni Kima</em>afterward.”</p><p>“Why? What does that mean?” Dani glanced down at Flora.</p><p>“It’s her name. Chiefess Kima.”</p><p>Dani nodded, briefly noticing Jamie watching the scene unfold from where she stood by the firepit, a small smirk on her face. Dani focused back on the woman before her.</p><p>“<em>Hakiyun,</em>” a quick glance at Flora who grinned up at her supportively, “<em>Dakwhini Kima</em>?”</p><p>She’d butchered it, she could hear herself, she knew she had, but the woman didn’t seem to mind at all, she was suddenly shaking with delight, a giggle bursting forth as she gave Dani’s hands another hard clench before reaching up to pat her cheek.</p><p>“<em>Tsaan napuite,”</em> Daikwahni Kima shouted over her shoulder to Jamie, who laughed and shook her head at the ground, waving whatever the Chiefess had said away with a hand as several riders behind her chuckled.</p><p>Miles came over, slipping his hand into the Chiefess’. “Dani <em>tsateboofoingehwai’nna,</em>” he said to the woman who tilted her head to listen closely. “<em>Dibizizaacci teniwaate</em>.”</p><p>Another wide grin cracked across the woman’s face and she reached up again, this time cupping Dani’s cheek warmly. “<em>Duguwana naibi</em>,” she said, still smiling. “<em>Aisem ma’i tsa’i</em>.”</p><p>Dani looked at Miles. “What is she saying?”</p><p>“I told her you teach us, that you’re helping us learn,” he said, “and she said you’re an angel. She said it’s good, what you’re doing, and that she thanks you.”</p><p>Dani looked back at the woman, whose kind eyes were crinkling at the edges the longer she smiled, and it was like Dani had swallowed a stone. Something ambiguous and heavy, just heavy enough to notice, settling into the pit of her stomach. Because this wasn’t what she’d been warned about. Warm hands and open faces and eyes kinder than any she’d seen in all of Iowa. This couldn’t possibly be what she’d been warned about.</p><p> </p><p>The other riders began to dismount and a flurry of activity began—several men began setting up a spit, the women began unwrapping what Dani soon discovered was a buffalo leg, massive and hearty enough to feed them all.</p><p>Flora took Dani’s hand and walked her through the crowd, explaining the ceremony as the fire pit suddenly ignited, pulling a cheer from those gathered closest around it.</p><p>“Mostly their rituals and dances are private,” Flora was saying, “only meant for the Unkagarits—that’s the name of their tribe. But after Jamie saved Dakayivani they decided to make a special exception, just for us.” She stopped to greet a young woman in braids and a deerskin dress covered in designs made of porcupine quills. Dani smiled at the woman and then Flora was tugging her along again, continuing on with her explanation. “Jamie says it’s an honor to be included in these Round Dances, and I quite agree.” She spread her little arms wide, spinning. “I think it’s perfectly splendid, don’t you?” She wobbled a bit, looking at Dani for an answer.</p><p>“I do,” Dani said, and she found that it was true. A tribe of Indians befriending a band of foreigners—it was all too strange and wonderful to be believed.</p><p>Suddenly a group of small children surrounded them and Flora began chattering with them, back and forth in their language, before introducing Dani to them one by one. The shy little boy named Akoaih with missing front teeth and dimples that made an appearance when Dani admired his beaded armband. The young girl Kaiwani with dark braids and golden eyes and careful smile, a stunning child on the brink of adolescence with a hint of sadness surrounding her. The handsome teenaged boy Huittsuu with a generous laugh who seemed to be the only one able to pull a smile from Kaiwani. There were others too, nameless, Flora explained, because the Kuttuhsippeh don’t name their children until something important happens to them.</p><p>“Something heroic or something tragic,” Flora answered later, when Dani asked what sort of thing merited a naming.</p><p>“What does Kaiwani mean?” Dani asked, and Flora told her it meant arrowhead, and that the girl had been named after she’d lost both her parents to a rival tribe years earlier and survived on her own for two weeks, fashioning arrowheads from rocks to hunt and protect herself.</p><p>Miles and Peter joined them as they went to sit by the fire, surrounded by a sea of tan bodies and black hair.</p><p>“Miles and I have names too,” Flora said, biting into a hunk of meat.</p><p>“Indian names?”</p><p>“Natives,” Peter muttered. “Natives.”</p><p>“Call them Natives,” Miles said. “It’s a better translation of what they call themselves. Jamie says it’s more respectful.”</p><p>“Oh—” Dani blushed a bit, she hadn’t realized such a common word could be the wrong one. She nodded. “Natives. Alright. You were given Native names?”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Miles spoke around the mess of roasted buffalo in his mouth, “Mine’s Ma’ro-pai and Flora’s is Oi’tcu. They mean warrior and bird. Peter’s is Ankabi-pidup and it sort of means ghost, but not really—it’s hard to—”</p><p>“There’s no English word for it,” Flora interrupted. “It means he’s special though, sort of like a spirit. They believe he has powers.”</p><p>Dani smiled at the man who was still nibbling on his shirt’s toggle. “I thought you only get names if something tragic or heroic happens?” She instantly regretted saying it. Their faces dropped, the mood changed. “Oh,” Dani said softly. “The bad people?”</p><p>Miles and Flora nodded.</p><p>“Does Jamie have a name?” She wasn’t quite sure why she’d asked it.</p><p>“Mu’nai,” Flora said. “It means Moon, like her horse.”</p><p>They stopped talking then, content to sit and eat the buffalo, to drink from the gourds of sweet cactus water being passed around, to nibble the small cakes being offered—tart and chewy delicacies of elderberry and ground root.</p><p> </p><p>When the feasting had ended they began to arrange large drums, preparing for the Round Dance.</p><p>“It’s a celebration,” Flora had explained earlier, “but also because it’s summer it’s meant to call down the rain.”</p><p>“It’s very important,” Miles had added, “because without the rain they have no water. Ever since their water supply was taken from them—” But another child had interrupted, pulling Miles away for a game and Dani hadn’t gotten the chance to ask <em>by whom? </em></p><p>Dani sat by herself for a while, observing the ceremony’s preparations and smiling at the passersby who looked at her with friendliness and unmasked curiosity. Several girls stopped to play with her hair, one of them taking a red feather from her own braid and weaving it into the braid she wove on one side of Dani’s head, from her forehead to her ear, leaving the rest to hang loose.</p><p>When she was alone again a group of people by the fire caught her eye. Jamie, standing beside the Chiefess, handing her the saddlebag full of green plants that Dani had noticed earlier in the day. The Chiefess seemed thrilled with the gift, showing several other tribesmen and patting Jamie’s cheek the way she’d patted Dani’s. There was another man standing there too, a younger man, and when he turned Dani realized that half of his body had been burned at some point—the skin mottled and warped and twisted. Her attention was drawn back to the woman, who was suddenly tugging on Jamie’s shirt.</p><p>Then—and Dani felt her eyes triple in size as it happened—Jamie pulled down her suspenders and unbuttoned her shirt, clutching it to her front while the Chiefess pulled it down in back. Dani’s breath caught.</p><p>There was a tattoo across Jamie’s back, a geometric interpretation of a bird, it seemed, its wings spread in flight. The Chiefess appeared to be inspecting it, touching the lines and the intricate shapes and shadows that filled in the bird’s outline, and it occurred to Dani that she looked to be checking her own work.</p><p>As if to confirm her thoughts Miles suddenly reappeared, following Dani’s gaze and shaking his head. “They wouldn’t give me one,” he said.</p><p>Dani glanced at him. “A tattoo?”</p><p>“It wasn’t fair because I helped too, I’m the one who ground the leaves for the medicine, I should’ve been able to have one.”</p><p>Dani was barely listening. The massive fire’s blaze was playing off the dips and hollows of Jamie’s back, her muscles bunching as she adjusted her shirt and tried to peer back over her own shoulder at the tattoo. Dani couldn’t drag her eyes away. Jamie was so free with herself, stripping down by a bonfire with Indi—<em>Natives</em>, throwing her head back in laughter at something the Chiefess’ husband said, shoving at him playfully.</p><p>A boy shouted for Miles and Miles answered back, giving Dani a quick goodbye before going to join his friends. They all seemed so at home here, the children, Jamie, even Peter, who was surrounded by a small crowd of women who were painting symbols up and down his arm.</p><p>Just then Flora appeared, dragging Kaiwani behind her.</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara, Kaiwani is terribly shy but she has the most perfectly lovely gift for you, come see!”</p><p>Dani stood to greet them, Flora grinning and Kaiwani watching with her sharp eyes.</p><p>“Hold out your hand,” Flora said, and when Dani did, Kaiwani slipped a band around her wrist, tying it quickly.</p><p>Dani held her hand to admire the gift. “It’s—it’s <em>beautiful,</em>” she gasped, looking at the serious girl. “Did you make this?”</p><p>“<em>Mawinji-nainka</em>?” Flora asked.</p><p>Kaiwani nodded. “<em>Tsi’atontsia</em>.”</p><p>“It’s a cactus rose blossom,” Flora translated, pointing at the careful beadwork, tracing a tiny finger over the small beads, woven together to create a thick band with the image of a rose in the middle. “It’s the symbol of their people.”</p><p><em>“E aisen ne tei</em>,” Kaiwani said softly, before looking at Dani with the smallest smile on her lips.</p><p>Flora nodded at her and turned to Dani. “She says you are a friend. You are a friend to her people.”</p><p>“F-fren—” Kaiwana started, glancing at Flora, “friend.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Flora smiled at her, and with that the two of them skipped off to join the gathering crowd that was now forming a circle, preparing to dance.</p><p><em>You are a friend to her people. </em>The stone in Dani’s stomach grew heavier. She needed air—air that wasn’t thick with the burning herbs, the fire’s smoke, reminders that she’d been welcomed into this ceremony without question. With open arms. And she did not deserve the honor.</p><p>It was a short walk up the ridge, made even easier with the boots and trousers she was enjoying a bit more than she’d expected. At the top of the little outcrop she looked down, just as the first drum beats echoed.</p><p>It was a strange time to cry, but she could already feel her eyes welling. The drums echoed and echoed, louder and louder, and the circle of bodies below began to move. With each foot slammed purposefully to the ground the circle of dancers let out a chorused grunt and raised their faces to the sky before taking the next step. Dani wiped at her face as the first tear fell, the cadence below coming louder and faster. Another tear fell. It was possible, she was realizing, that every fucking thing she’d ever been told, everything she’d ever believed, had been a lie.</p><p>“Gonna tie a bell round your neck.” Jamie’s voice startled her, and Dani quickly rubbed at her eyes before Jamie could catch her crying.</p><p>Jamie stepped over to stand beside her at the edge, looking down to the dancing below. The ground was uneven and Jamie was standing just slightly higher than Dani.</p><p>“You don’t need to,” Dani suddenly said, looking up at her, and she wasn’t entirely certain why she was saying it. To distract from her tears, perhaps. Or maybe because it was true. “Tie a bell, I mean. I’m not going to run.”</p><p>Jamie eyed her with an arched brow. “Sounds like somethin’ someone plannin’ to run might say.”</p><p>Dani shook her head with a small smile. “At this point it’ll be easier to just wait for Edmund.”</p><p>“Edmund,” Jamie echoed, and there was something snide about the little huff of laughter that followed.</p><p>Dani glanced at her. Jamie looked back.</p><p>Dani wasn’t <em>completely</em> ignorant. She knew, she’d recognized that on some level Jamie was similar. In that way. But she was also different, so very different, the way she was so free with herself. The way Dani had caught her looking at her, admiring what she saw, without a hint of shame. It was strange because it didn’t feel wrong when it was Jamie doing it. She couldn’t imagine Jamie being shamed in front of a church because it was just who Jamie was. Jamie wouldn’t apologize for it, Dani was certain. She wouldn’t be made to feel anything less than confident in her own skin. And maybe, Dani realized, that was the crux of it right there. Maybe shame needed your permission to enter in. Maybe it was a manmade construct, like time. Like the tall clock in the center of Cottonwood, the one with the Bible verse etched on the plaque below: <em>The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed</em>. The numbers on that clock only meant something because everyone had agreed they did. Maybe shame was exactly the same. And maybe, just maybe, the God of Cottonwood, Iowa was too.</p><p>“I like your tattoo,” Dani said after a while, chancing another glance at Jamie.</p><p>“Yeah? Could show you again if you want—” She went to undo her top button.</p><p>Dani shook her head, laughing. “I saw it.”</p><p>“Tease,” Jamie muttered, and Dani couldn’t help but feel like the pot was calling the kettle.</p><p>“Miles said something about leaves and medicine? Did you—” She turned to look at Jamie head on. “Did you help them?”</p><p>Jamie was nodding. “Their tribe moves about, like. Huntin’, gatherin’. But for centuries they stuck near the river, never wandered too far. Was their only water source, so. Then a couple years back there was an attack. Someone else wanted the water. Wanted it all to themself. Middle of the night their camp was raided. They live in these grass huts, made of dried brush and the like? Perfect for burnin’, turns out. They didn’t have a fuckin’ prayer. Lost half their tribe that night. Women and children mostly because half the men were out on a huntin’ party. Came back the next day to a fuckin’ horror. Kima’s son Dakayivani was stuck in one of the huts as it burned, half his body fuckin’ melted.” Jamie shook her head, her jaw tense. “But he was lucky. Kima had a daughter, Mugwayan. Means <em>strong spirit</em>, that name,” Jamie glanced at Dani and Dani nodded, listening carefully, “and fuck if that name wasn’t meant for her. They took her, the men who burned their camp. They took her and the things they did—” She shook her head again, her eyes going dark. “She fought them, brave as all fuck. Grown men and she fought them. But in the end…” Jamie looked at Dani. “Twelve years old, she was. Twelve. All because they didn’t want to share the fuckin’ river. Wanted it all to themselves.”</p><p>Dani’s throat felt like she’d swallowed a mouthful of the desert floor. “Who?” She whispered it, because she was afraid of the answer. Because she already knew the answer.</p><p>“<em>Taipo</em>,” Jamie said. “White men.”</p><p>Edmund’s letter flashed in Dani’s mind. <em>They doggedly reject the fact that God gifted the white man with Manifest Destiny, entrusting us to bring faith and democracy to every corner of this land, from forest to prairie to sea.</em></p><p>“They fled, those that survived,” Jamie was saying, “and they ended up comin’ upon Bly. And, as it happened, was a spot of fuckin’ luck they did. We have plants in Bly—it’s,” she looked confused for a moment, like she hadn’t quite planned to tell Dani all this, “well. Call it a hobby, I s’pose. But anyway, happened to have exactly what they needed for Dakayivani, who was at death’s fuckin’ door by the time they showed up. Was able to help him. All of them. We gave them water, let them rest. Later, they came back with horses for us. Gifts. And it’s been that way goin’ on two years now. We give them water and plants—medicine—when they need it. They give us roots and herbs and the like. And every full moon we do this.” She looked down at the scene below. “Bit like havin’ a family, I reckon, not that—” She shook her head. “Good people, though. Best I’ve known.”</p><p>Edmund had sent another letter several months into the construction of Promise. <em>Having a damnable time keeping the Indians at bay—apparently this land used to be their springtime hunting ground. Several of their ancestors are buried nearby and they seem to believe it grants them more ownership of the land than the papers clearly stating the land is mine. They’ve tried bargaining—all they truly desire is the right to an occasional visit, to pay their respects with whatever heathen ritual they believe benefits their dearly departed. Poor bastards—wait until the missionaries inform them that nothing can be done for a soul damned to Hell. Nothing’s come of their misguided claim to the land yet, thankfully. It would be a shame to waste ammunition on the savages when it’s meant for hunting. Though waste itself seems a grave sin when rations are scarce and winter is coming. I wonder—is savage meat tough or tender? </em>Dani thought she might be sick.</p><p>Shame. Shame was a clawing beast inside her gut, churning and angry. <em>How dare they. </em>How dare they use God to promote such blatant evil. Such abhorrent hatred to a people, a beautiful people, striving to simply <em>live. </em></p><p>Her eyes were welling again but suddenly Jamie’s hand was around her wrist.</p><p>“Not here.”</p><p>Dani looked at her.</p><p>“You don’t get to cry for them here. This is a celebration—<em>their </em>celebration. Their ritual. You’re feelin’ good and guilty? Makes sense, you should,” she said. Not unkindly, but like it was common fact. “But you don’t get to air it out here. Fix that shite on your own time. Not theirs.”</p><p>Dani swallowed, nodding.</p><p>Long moments slipped by and Dani tried to breathe evenly, push down the chaos of heartbreak and anger. <em>On her own time.</em> She focused on the dancing. The circle below was moving steadily, the drums pounding, voices chanting.</p><p>Dani glanced at Jamie. “There were laws against it.” She slid her eyes down to the ritual below when Jamie looked at her, questioning. “Actual laws, written in a book. They said such ceremonies call down to the devil. That they conjure him. And I used to imagine it must feel horrible, being so far removed from God that you’d call upon the devil. But now…”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Now I think…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, shaking her head at the dancing below, “I think that maybe the devil was in Cottonwood all along.” Dani turned to look at Jamie and found her staring. “Is that an awful thing to say?”</p><p>Jamie slowly shook her head.</p><p>She was looking at Dani like there was more, like she was on the brink of saying something else. Then she seemed to notice the feather in Dani’s hair for the first time. She reached out to touch it, letting her hand linger by Dani’s ear before her eyes once again settled on Dani’s, dark and heavy. Dani felt like she was drunk off of that look alone. Felt her heart pick up. Felt her eyes grow heavy, settling into the bow of Jamie’s lips. She couldn’t look away. “There were other things outlawed in Cottonwood.”</p><p>“Like what?” Jamie’s voice was nearly a whisper.</p><p>Dani’s bravery was faltering. “Other things.”</p><p>Jamie moved forward, stepping into her space, forcing Dani to look at her eyes. “What other things?”</p><p>Jamie knew. She <em>knew</em> what Dani couldn’t bring herself to say. It was in the way her eyes had suddenly gone dark, the way her cheeks were just a little bit flushed.</p><p>Dani realized she was shaking her head. <em>I can’t. </em></p><p>But Jamie wasn’t done pushing. “Things that you…that you wanted?”</p><p><em>God, yes. </em>Dani swallowed and blinked at the ground. Suddenly there was a knuckle under her chin, gently lifting her eyes back to Jamie’s.</p><p>“What do you want?” Jamie’s voice was barely a whisper, and yet it pounded in Dani’s ears, louder than the drums below.</p><p>Dani swallowed again. “I—I don’t—I <em>can’t</em>—” She felt her forehead furrow as she looked down at Jamie’s forearm, still right there, her knuckle still beneath Dani’s chin. Suddenly Jamie was tucking an errant blonde strand behind her ear with her other hand and Dani’s eyes drifted shut because it was too much. Jamie being gentle was just too much.</p><p>“You can,” Jamie said quietly. “This isn’t Cottonwood.”</p><p>Dani looked at her then, and she knew she must have looked pitiful—timid and still ashamed, her eyes pleading for Jamie to say it all for her.</p><p>But Jamie wouldn’t. Instead, she softly urged her, one last time. “What do you want?”</p><p>Dani’s fingers were moving of their own accord, reaching out across the small space between them, curling around one of Jamie’s suspender straps. What did she want? <em>Everything. </em>She wanted everything. She wanted to be unafraid to ask questions about the world around her. She wanted the answers to come from something other than the Bible. Anything other than the Bible.  She wanted to learn. To know which deity these Natives were calling out to, and if that deity answered back, or if he hated people the way her father’s deity did. She wanted to know what kind of blind faith had given Jamie the strength to cross an entire ocean without knowing what awaited her on the other side. She wanted to find joy in simple pleasures without worrying that she was damning her soul. She wanted to streak her face in paint and dance around that fire below and scream at the sky until her throat was shredded into ribbons. Until she was satisfied that the God of Cottonwood, Iowa had heard her loud and clear and marked her as a heathen. She wanted everything.</p><p>“I want—” she gripped the suspender strap in her fist, tethering herself to the present, reminding herself that she wasn’t in Cottonwood, “I want to be free.”</p><p>Jamie stepped even closer, so close now that she had to tilt her head down a bit to see Dani’s face. “Free from…from this? From me?”</p><p>Dani looked at her. Let Jamie look back. Let Jamie take her fill of every truth she knew was being revealed there, flashing behind her eyes. Then, slowly and honestly, she shook her head.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, a hint of a smile pulling at one side of her mouth. Then, as if in slow motion, her mouth was moving closer but her eyes were still on Dani’s—watching, calculating, making sure Dani was okay with it.</p><p>When Dani realized what was about to happen she couldn’t stop a small gasp from escaping her lips, leaving her mouth parted just as Jamie’s own mouth found her way there, and for a moment they stayed like that—breathing into each other, thrumming with the static energy of <em>almost almost almost.</em> Jamie’s hand left Dani’s chin and slid around to the back of her neck before raking up through her hair, taking a fistful and flashing a heated half-smile when Dani couldn’t help but gasp again, this time a little more desperately. She’d never felt like this before—like her entire body was hungry. Starving.</p><p>She was done being denied. She was done being <em>good.</em> She reared up on the balls of her feet, surging toward Jamie’s mouth, but suddenly Jamie was pulling back to look past Dani, her face changing, her entire energy suddenly transformed into something determinedly different.</p><p>“Flora?” Jamie said, her hands flying into her back pockets as she attempted to step away from Dani. “Everything alright?” She smiled at the little girl who had quietly appeared behind them, taking several glances down at her own suspender strap where Dani’s fist was still clenched.</p><p>Dani was white-knuckled and her hand was refusing to let go, so Jamie unfurled it one finger at a time while talking to Flora in a voice that was far too bright and cheery to fool anyone, especially too-clever-for-her-own-good Flora.</p><p>“Just came up for a bit of a chat with your teacher here,” Jamie said. “First time at a Round Dance—can you believe it? They don’t have these back in Iowa.”</p><p>Flora was looking back and forth between them, an unreadable look on her face.</p><p>“I’ve come for Mrs. O’Mara, the others want her to join in the dance, but—” Flora still appeared to be puzzling out the scene she’d interrupted, “shall I tell them she’s…busy?”</p><p>“Not busy in the least,” Jamie said too quickly.</p><p>Dani was still trying to catch up, still trying to process as Flora took her hand and led her back down the ridge to the crowd below. Her heart was still pounding, her mouth still tingling, buzzing with unfulfilled anticipation.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Down below Dani let herself be dragged into the dancing circle, barely registering Flora’s voice as she explained the movements and the meanings. It was an easy enough dance to pick up on, and soon Dani found herself stepping in time alongside Flora and Kaiwani.</p><p>Between the chanting and the fire, the starry sky and the pounding drums, there was a growing feeling in Dani, like the world was suddenly humongous and yawning open for her, a world of wonder and curiosity and strangers who were warmer than family. Like the slice of a knife through the seams of a corset, freeing and revealing and new. She was angry and she was delirious with joy.</p><p>She let the rhythm take her. As the drums echoed the dancers became freer in their movements, twining their arms, seeming to improvise, to move as they were led. Dani smiled down at Flora who was spinning in place, her arms stretched wide. She tipped her own head back, gazing at the stars with a wild grin on her face, and then she started moving. Just her arms at first, then her hips. The drumbeats vibrated in her chest, pounding flat all thoughts of <em>heathen devil worship</em>. If this was devil worship Dani had been rooting for the wrong team. The movements came freer, unrehearsed but smooth all the same as she followed the drumbeats’ lead.</p><p>The wide ring of dancers turned slowly, incrementally making their way around and around the fire. Dani’s hands were above her head, twisting and moving like the others. She watched the ground beneath her feet rippling and shifting with pulsing shadows and flickering firelight. Let herself become entranced by it.</p><p>There was a crowd of tribe members gathered around the rim of the dancing circle, elders and children and drummers, content to watch rather than join in. At one point Dani looked up, and in the sea of strangers there was Jamie, hands in her pockets, casual as a breeze, watching Dani dance.</p><p>Dani felt her cheeks flush and her lips twitch—she was sure she looked ridiculous, dancing as if she hadn’t a care in the world. But the way Jamie was looking at her. Jamie didn’t seem to find her ridiculous.</p><p>Their eyes met again and this time Dani wasn’t embarrassed. The drums were louder, the chanting deeper, full-throated and bold. Dani couldn’t think of a single reason not to let the pounding rhythm into herself. Let it take her over. The circle moved her along, friendly faces encouraging her to move to the drum beats. There was nothing inherently sensual about it, but there was a sudden freedom that was setting Dani’s senses afire. The air was thick with the perfume of the herbs the elders were burning by the fire. There was a gray smoke trail curling lazily into the sky, backlit by an expanse of indigo sky, stars scattered and flashing like diamonds. Dani let the current of dancers carry her, twirling and twisting with the rest of them, the beads on her wrist glinting in the firelight.</p><p>She felt someone’s eyes on her, sensed that she was being watched, and looked up to find Jamie, hands still in her pockets, slinking through the crowd gathered around the dancers, her eyes locked on Dani. Following her as she danced. She didn’t look away when Dani met her gaze. Didn’t even pretend she wasn’t staring. Dani stared back. Without taking her eyes off of Jamie she began to dance again, letting the rhythm course through her. As the circle continued to move, Jamie stalked after her, unnoticed by the crowd.</p><p>She was drunk off the drumbeats and she let her hips move in a way she’d never moved them before, watching the moment that Jamie’s eyes slid down, darkening before they slid back to her own. She let her arms fall down, let her hands slide over her body, and Jamie just stood there. Hands in pockets. Staring. Dani bit her lip and if she was being honest she did it on purpose—she knew what it would accomplish. And it <em>did.</em> A tendon worked in Jamie’s throat. There was raw hunger in her eyes.</p><p>The drummers were banging their instruments in unison now, a crescendo that seemed to be building up to something, louder and louder and louder.</p><p>Dani locked eyes with Jamie, writhed in place as the drums hammered, her hair loose and wild as she ran a hand through it. The beat was growing faster and faster and Dani realized her breaths were coming faster too.</p><p>They didn’t need to call it to light, she realized suddenly, it was already there. They didn’t need to say a word. It was in the way the air between them was full of static and friction and heat. The way Jamie’s eyes were almost black. The way a muscle kept flexing in her cheek. The way her nostrils flared when Dani ran a hand down her own front. And, Dani knew, it was in the way she was looking back at Jamie with just as much longing.</p><p>The drums pounded once, twice, a third time, and then all went silent. The dancers stopped in place, and for a moment the only sound in the world was the crackling of the fire.</p><p>And Dani’s heart, frantic in her chest, still locked in an endless gaze with the woman who had kidnapped her. Dani bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood because she’d never needed anything as much as she did in that moment. She wasn’t even sure she could put words to the feeling, she just knew that the thing she’d been wanting was right there in Jamie’s eyes. Jamie, who was haughty and awful and rude and impossible. Jamie, whose mouth looked custom made for kissing. Jamie, who was looking at her the way Dani had seen the barn cats in Cottonwood looking at the unsuspecting mice they were about to devour. Dani was suddenly filled with the conviction that <em>yes</em>—that was exactly it, <em>that </em>was what she wanted. For Jamie to swallow her whole.</p><p>Jamie took a step toward Dani, and it was as if that movement alone had set the world in motion again. Everyone started bustling about, and almost immediately Jamie was swarmed by tribe members. Dani was swarmed too—everyone chattering in their foreign tongue, seemingly delighted that she had joined in their dance.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dani didn’t see Jamie again until hours later, when the fire had burned to embers and everyone was gathering their belongings, packing their horses and readying themselves for the journey home. Everyone said their goodbyes. <em>Mehi puinnuhi,</em> they said, hugging her and clutching her hands. <em>Mehi puinnuhi.</em></p><p>Someone called her name and she looked over to the ridge to see Jamie climb up onto Moon, the others already on their horses.</p><p>“Come along, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said around a yawn, scooting forward in the saddle to make room for Dani.</p><p>“She’s ridin’ with me,” Jamie said suddenly, and Dani turned to look up at her.</p><p>“But that isn’t fair! She rode out with Totem and I and it was perfectly lovely and we—”</p><p>“She’s ridin’ with me,” Jamie said again, in a final sort of way that had Flora frowning and looking at Dani with something akin to curious betrayal.</p><p>Dani sent Flora a little apologetic shrug before taking Jamie’s hand and climbing into the saddle, moving forward once she was up to leave a bit of space between them.</p><p>“Peter, mate!” Jamie slapped his thigh as they passed by on Moon. “Wake up! We’re headin’ out.”</p><p>Peter sat up straight in the saddle, shaking his head. “Wake up. Wake up.”</p><p>Jamie pulled back on the reigns, slowing Moon for a moment, earning a frustrated huff from the horse who seemed eager to run after waiting around all evening.</p><p>Jamie looked over at the children. “You want to lead?”</p><p>“The whole way?” Miles said, suddenly wide awake.</p><p>“If you like. Only to the gate—no farther til I’ve done—”</p><p>“The sweep,” Miles and Flora chorused.</p><p>“Alright, cheeky fuckers,” Jamie laughed. “Lead on, then.”</p><p>Miles and Flora took the lead, directing their horses out into the cold, dark desert night. Peter followed behind, and Jamie finally urged Moon into a slow walk to bring up the rear. It was all by design, of that Dani was certain, but she couldn’t figure out why. To talk, perhaps? And just like that her stomach was sinking—that had to be it, Jamie wanted to talk about earlier. To tell her it had been a mistake, up on the ridge. The thing that had <em>almost</em> happened.</p><p>It was strange. She <em>knew </em>Jamie wanted her. She was certain it was obvious she wanted Jamie. But that kind of want had always been linked to suffering, and it was as if Dani’s mind refused to let it be as simple as she desperately wanted to believe it might be.</p><p><em>A beautiful face is a terrible thing to be cursed with, </em>they’d told her at the hearing in Cottonwood three years earlier. After it had happened. The incident. <em>Your looks are a curse, Danielle, not only to you but to all those that you tempt to ruination with your vanity and seduction. </em>But Dani hadn’t. She hadn’t seduced. She hadn’t been vain. She’d just…fallen. Or thought she had. <em>The Lloyds are a God-fearing family and it’s an undeserved blessing that Arthur is so merciful, </em>they’d spat at her<em>. </em>All the men on the church council, red-faced and seething as she’d stood before them. <em>A less forgiving man would have pressed charges, Danielle. It is truly the devil’s work when a succubus like you causes a pious family such suffering. </em></p><p>Her fault. It had been her fault, the incident. That’s what they’d told her and that’s what she believed. Well. What she <em>had </em>believed. She wasn’t sure anymore. But as the horses plodded along and the silence stretched, she was growing increasingly worried that Jamie was going to blame her too. Dani had been the one to reach out, even if it’d only been a suspender she’d grasped onto.</p><p>Jamie cleared her throat like she was preparing to say something and just like that Dani wasn’t just worried, she was downright terrified, and she scrambled to say something, <em>anything</em>, before Jamie could begin chastising her.</p><p>“I did something bad in Cottonwood,” she blurted and then froze, squeezing her eyes shut on a cringe. Of all the things she could have said. She waited, but Jamie stayed silent behind her. “Did—did you hear me?” Dani tilted her head.</p><p>“I heard. Gonna tell me more?”</p><p>“My—it was my father’s—well, it was <em>my</em>—what happened was my fault, but the reason—I mean, it was the church that—” She cringed again, shaking her head at the dusky moonlit land ahead of her. A deep breath. “My father was the—is, he <em>is</em>—the preacher in Cottonwood. The only preacher. There’s just one church, it’s…it’s small. The town is. And it was built up around the church. The church was there first, so. Everything revolves around it. Holidays, marriages, deaths, births, social gatherings, even the local rumors and hearsay.” Dani swallowed. “Everything.”</p><p>“Can’t imagine.”</p><p>“When you’re the preacher’s only child—only daughter, no less, it’s um. It’s hard? The entire town is always watching you. When you’re small you feel important because everyone knows who you are, everyone points and smiles and says <em>that’s the preacher’s daughter</em>. Everyone wants to be your friend.” <em>Why? </em>Why was she telling Jamie all this? “But when you get older. Then it’s as if those same people who adored you are just waiting for you to slip up. They seek gossip the way I imagine other people seek enlightenment or happiness. They crave it, just to distract themselves from how unremarkable their own lives are.”</p><p>“Bit pathetic, that.”</p><p>“And hypocritical. Because they all show up on Sunday to pass judgment but behind closed doors they’re all doing the very things they pretend to hate. One of the deacons is always drunk, even though he’s the one who outlawed spirits in Cottonwood when we became an official town. One of the other deacon’s wives was publicly shamed for what the church called <em>inappropriate interactions with the intent to seduce</em>. She’d been buying ribbons from a passing waresman. Just buying ribbons, that was all. Meanwhile the entire town knows about her husband’s indiscretions—he’s been caught in more than a few compromising positions with young ladies half his age.” Dani shook her head. Even from halfway across the country the mere thought of that town brought her blood to boil.</p><p>A silent moment passed.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>Dani twisted around to glance at Jamie. “So what?”</p><p>“What’d you do? The bad thing.”</p><p><em>Oh. </em>Dani faced forward again on a sigh. <em>Right. </em>“I—it’s quite a long story, actually, and I—well. Suffice to say that in the end I was caught. It wasn’t—it was worse because of who I am. Who my father is. Half of his parishioners refused to attend Sunday services until I was punished. It wasn’t just my father’s pride that was injured, it was his livelihood—with half the congregation missing the church was losing money, and the roof was in desperate need of fixing. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint. They were in need of new Bibles too, the old ones were worn. So in order to save the church,” <em>and himself, </em>“my father made an example of me. There was a town hearing. I had to go before the whole church, the entire congregation berating me and praying over me in the same breath.” She shook her head. “A sacrificial lamb for the good of his flock, that’s what my mother said to me. <em>Just keep your head down and do your penance</em>. So I did.”</p><p>“Well fuck them.”</p><p>Dani fought the sudden urge to smile. “You don’t know what I did.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter. Nothin’s bad enough for a parent to sacrifice their child.”</p><p>Dani thought about that. It sounded true. It felt true. A simple and easy fact, obvious in a way that none of the legalities back in Iowa had ever been.</p><p>“Perhaps I murdered someone,” Dani said.</p><p>“Perhaps you had good reason.”</p><p>Dani had been attempting to lighten the mood but Jamie’s reply had been dark and heavy with something that Dani couldn’t quite recognize.</p><p>Silence fell between them as they rode on, Peter atop Silver a hundred feet ahead, the children just barely visible beyond him. Dani had told Jamie about Cottonwood—rather, she’d <em>hinted</em> about Cottonwood—in order to ward off what she’d feared might be another accusation. <em>It’s always better to reveal your guilt before it can be revealed for you, </em>she’d been told time and time again growing up. But this wasn’t Cottonwood, Jamie had said as much earlier, and she was beginning to regret cutting Jamie off with her vague confession. She rather wished she hadn’t said anything at all, if only to know what Jamie had been preparing to say.</p><p>A coyote howled in the near distance and its pack called back with yips and yowls. It had only taken a week, a mere week, for Dani to grow accustomed to such sounds. To become fascinated by them rather than terrified. A pack of coyotes, hunting across the desert beneath a full moon. <em>How horribly dangerous</em>, she would have thought a week ago. Now her only thought was <em>how beautifully haunting. </em>It was a hollow, lonely cry and it settled somewhere inside of her, pulling at some buried emotion.</p><p>“Are they sad, do you think? They sound so sad.”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“The coyotes.”</p><p>“They’re not sad,” there was a smile in Jamie’s voice, “they’re <em>alive</em>. Never been as alive as they are this minute, howlin’ under a full moon. They’re bloody celebratin’.”</p><p>“Like the Kuttsipp.”</p><p>“The Kuttuhsippeh,” Jamie corrected absently, “right. People—people like your Cottonwood folks—have an aggravatin’ habit of confusing <em>bad </em>with<em> different</em>. Coyotes might sound sad to our ear but that’s because we don’t speak coyote.”</p><p>“It’s the same with people, isn’t it? That’s what you’re saying.” She felt Jamie shrug behind her.</p><p>“Not sayin’ anythin’. Just talkin’.”</p><p>“It’s true though. About people confusing bad and different.” The vision of Edmund firing warning shots into the air above Promise flashed in her mind. Edmund, believing it was his duty, his <em>right </em>to scare away Native people who had lived on that land for centuries. Who had buried their loved ones there and only wished for the freedom to return to their own land to pay their respects. <em>Their own goddamned land and all they wanted was the right to an occasional visit</em>. Dani shivered.</p><p>“Cold?”</p><p>Dani nodded, even if it was only half true. “It’s freezing out here at night.”</p><p>Jamie leaned forward, just enough to lower her voice by Dani’s ear. “Why d’you reckon I wanted to ride together?” She leaned back in the saddle. “Here, c’mere.”</p><p>Before Dani could object, Jamie had an arm around her middle and she was hauling her backwards until her back was flush with Jamie’s chest. Until her backside was flush with Jamie’s—</p><p>“Okay?” Jamie’s voice was a whispered rasp.</p><p>All Dani could do was nod, two quick jerks.</p><p>Jamie held the reins, her hands on either side of Dani, her wrists resting on the tops of Dani’s thighs. Suddenly she was handing Dani the reins.</p><p>“Slow and steady,” Jamie said. “Lead her home.”</p><p>“But—I don’t know—” Dani could barely make out Peter’s horse in the distance ahead.</p><p>“Moon knows the way. The reins are a formality. Stars are incredible tonight.”</p><p>It took a moment to register the sudden change in topic, but when she did Dani tipped her head back. It was <em>majestic</em>. There was no other word, the way the stars were only just the beginning. Behind them the night sky was swirling with indigoes and dark sapphires and hints of black and even burgundy. Then Jamie’s hand was at her back, collecting Dani’s hair and sweeping it over Dani’s left shoulder. Dani twisted around, questioning.</p><p>Jamie raised a shoulder. Then, as if embarrassed, she let out a little laugh. “Bet hair was against the law in Cottonwood too.”</p><p>Dani smiled. “It was, actually. It had to be tied back. Covered on Sundays.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ rubbish,” Jamie said with another little laugh. “Bloody crime to cover your hair.”</p><p>“Most of the women didn’t mind it. I suppose it was a little like an equalizer, you know?”</p><p>“<em>Your </em>hair. I meant your hair, specifically. Bloody crime.”</p><p>Dani wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. From anyone else it would be a simple compliment. One she’d thank them for and promptly attempt to brush off. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been told she had lovely hair—growing up she was told all the time. But this was not the same. Everything about it felt different. So she stayed quiet.</p><p>Behind her, Jamie took a deep breath and Dani felt it along every inch of her spine, the way Jamie expanded against her back until there was so much skin pressed together. It was over a second later when she breathed out and Dani felt the loss, so she shimmied backward, just a little. She felt it when Jamie let out the tiniest puff of breath, and she didn’t even try to keep from smiling down at the horse’s bobbing head. But then her smile was gone, her eyes snapping up and her cheeks on fire because Jamie had just pushed against her—ground herself against Dani’s backside with a miniscule thrust.</p><p>Dani held her breath, even while she could hear Jamie’s breath quickening behind her. They were both sitting stone still, waiting.</p><p>Finally, Jamie pushed against her again, tentative and testing as she said, “Do you—” But the question was bitten off and Dani bit down on her tongue to keep from begging Jamie to ask whatever it was she had started to ask. <em>Do you like this? Do you want this? Do you need this?</em></p><p>“Yes,” Dani whispered into the night. It didn’t matter what the question might’ve been, she realized, the answer was all the same.</p><p>Jamie made a soft noise, a dark noise—delight and surprise and hunger all at once. Her arm snaked around Dani’s middle again, pressing Dani against her, holding her there. This time when she ground against her there was nothing tentative about it. Nothing subtle in the sound that the movement pulled from her throat, deep and tortured and wholly aroused.</p><p>Dani was on fire. Gasping at the night air and wishing there was something other than the smooth saddle beneath her. Wishing that she too could press the growing ache between her legs against something. Jamie seemed to read her mind because suddenly her hand was moving back across Dani’s middle, sliding downward over her thigh before coming to rest against the saddle, palm up, at the juncture of her thighs.</p><p>Dani glanced down. <em>Her choice. </em>Jamie was making it Dani’s choice. Making Dani decide.</p><p>Jamie leaned forward, resting her forehead against Dani’s back. “Say no if you like—tell me to stop—" It came as a whisper.</p><p>But Dani had spent a lifetime saying no. She pressed her hips forward, angling herself until Jamie’s hand was—<em>God—</em>right there, right where she needed it, and incredibly it was <em>Jamie </em>who moaned.</p><p>Then Jamie was grinding into her again, catching Dani between her own hips and hand, using her own rhythm to encourage Dani to move. Dani tried—a harsh dig of her pelvis and <em>holy—oh—</em>she understood, it made sense, the reason people sometimes risked it all for this feeling.</p><p>The trousers weren’t particularly thin but Dani could feel everything, each individual finger, and Jamie wasn’t staying stagnant, her fingers were roving and rubbing and pushing back in turn. Then she was resting her chin on Dani’s shoulder and using the stirrups for leverage, pushing into Dani harder. Dani felt her chin move beside her neck as she let out a noise that sent a white hot pulse to Dani’s core.</p><p>Dani turned to glance at her and found Jamie staring down from her vantage point on Dani’s shoulder, watching Dani move against her hand. And the idea that she was <em>watching</em>, unashamed and unafraid, it was as if a dam broke inside of Dani. She thrust against Jamie’s hand, pushing into the heel of her palm in earnest, let her head fall back against Jamie’s shoulder until she could feel Jamie’s labored breath against her neck.</p><p>It seemed to take great effort for Jamie to grind out a groan as she watched Dani move. “Fuck,” she whispered against Dani’s neck, “fuck, that’s—does that feel good?”</p><p>Dani was nodding frantically before she’d even finished asking the question. “Yes, it—” She couldn’t use words, not when the pressure was building, not when she could feel herself dripping into the trousers.</p><p>“Tell me—” Jamie growled, “tell me what feels—I want—tell me what you need—”</p><p>Dani didn’t know, she didn’t—except <em>this</em>, this was working, this was good— “Just—this—I just,” she pushed against Jamie’s shoulder with the back of her head, using the momentum to thrust against Jamie’s hand again.</p><p>Jamie surged against her, grinding herself into Dani from behind and suddenly cupping her with her whole hand, forceful and hot. “Fuck, you feel good.”</p><p><em>God, </em>that word. Dani hadn’t ever known anyone to use that word but there was something about it. She <em>loved </em>it. Loved hearing Jamie say it.</p><p>Jamie was still talking. “You’ve got me so close to—Jesus, fuck—"</p><p>Dani heard herself whimper, couldn’t have kept from making noise if she tried because Jamie was going to—she was about to—</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie’s head was bent, her forehead rolling against Dani’s back again. “Gonna make me come—" she whispered, frantically pumping her hips against Dani again and again and again.</p><p>“Yeah,” the word slipped out of Dani on a breath, and once it had she found that she <em>liked </em>this—talking about what they were doing instead of hiding from it. “You—you should—do that—the thing—what you said—” She felt her brow furrow with another cringe. <em>Practice.</em> She’d practice.</p><p>Jamie let out a breathless laugh, still moving against her. “You too—can you? Are you—”</p><p>Dani nodded again. “I think—”</p><p>“Can I—” Suddenly Jamie’s hand was scrabbling at the ties of Dani’s trousers. “Is this? Tell me no, I’ll stop, I swear—I just, fuck these fuckin' trousers, I—Christ yeah, fuck—”</p><p>Dani had moved Jamie’s hand out of the way, tugging at the ties herself because all she wanted was to feel Jamie’s fingers against her with nothing in between, and the minute Jamie’s hand slipped past the waist of her trousers, slipping down, down, down, Dani let out a long groan because <em>finally</em>—</p><p>A gunshot rang out in the distance. They froze. Moon froze beneath them. And then, an anguished scream came tearing across the desert.</p><p>“Jamie!”</p><p>Dani’s stomach lurched. It was Miles’ who’d screamed. “Miles—"</p><p>“Hold on—” Jamie growled it in Dani’s ear and then she was kicking Moon’s flanks and they were launching forward, crossing the barren land at a blurred gallop.</p><p>Bly came into view, just around the bend of a rock formation and soon the other horses could be seen by the gate. Dani did a quick head count. Her heart heaved in relief. They were all there. They were all unharmed, it seemed.</p><p>“There was someone here!” Miles cried when they were within earshot, and Jamie cursed under her breath.</p><p>As they drew closer Dani could see Miles’ revolver, still resting in his hand.</p><p>“There was someone—why were you so far behind us?” Miles asked, still sounding panicked. “Someone was here!”</p><p>“Who?” Jamie barked at him, finally pulling Moon up alongside Hooper. “Who was here?”</p><p>“A man!”</p><p>“What happened? Flora?”</p><p>But Flora was white as a ghost, just staring, and so was Peter.</p><p>“What happened?!” Jamie shouted at them, causing all three to flinch.</p><p>“A man on horseback,” Flora said softly. “He’d been in Bly, he was riding out when we came up on the gate. He took off when Miles fired a shot into the air.”</p><p>Suddenly Jamie was pushing Dani off of Moon. “Wait here,” she said when Dani had unceremoniously dropped down onto her feet. “Which direction?”</p><p>Everyone was silent.</p><p>“Fuckin’ answer me! Which way did he go?”</p><p>Flora pointed in the opposite direction they’d come from, but suddenly Miles cried out.</p><p>“Don’t go,” he said, “don’t leave us, don’t chase him—”</p><p>Jamie’s jaw was tense as she looked up at the stars. “Fuck!” She shouted suddenly, causing Moon to shift uneasily. “Fuck,” she said again, more softly. “Right. You lot stay here while I do a sweep.”</p><p>She disappeared into Bly. Long, silent moments slid by, the tension growing as every insect’s buzz, every night bird’s call caused Dani and the others to startle. Finally, Jamie returned.</p><p>“’S fine. Safe,” she said, sounding exhausted and empty.</p><p>She was in a mood for the rest of the night as they watered the horses, put them in the stable for the night and went inside to scrub the desert day from their skin. She didn’t even bother to say goodnight when she locked Dani in her room. Which was just rude. After…everything.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                 ~*~</p><p> </p><p>Dani couldn’t sleep. She was frustrated. Pent up. And not just because of <em>that</em>. It wasn’t fair, the way Jamie was wriggling her way under Dani’s skin. It wasn’t right. Perhaps if they’d met another way—maybe if they’d been traveling aboard the train as passengers, meeting somewhere along their respective journeys. But not like this. Not when she was locked in with the window nailed shut. Not when she’d been taken against her will.</p><p>There was a sudden scream from the adjacent room—Miles’ room. Dani sat up, blinking at the wall between them. There was whimpering now, breathless little cries, and soon there were footsteps in the hall. The sound of Miles’ door opening. Dani could just make out voices.</p><p>“Alright mate?”</p><p>“I had a dream.”</p><p>“Bout the man you saw tonight?” Miles must have shaken his head because Jamie guessed again. “About—about London, then?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“That’s behind us though, innit? Don’t need to waste your dreams on—”</p><p>“But it isn’t! If it was, you wouldn’t stand up on that bloody water tower every day watching for him!” He was shouting now. “You’re every bit as scared as we are, admit it!”</p><p>“I’m the adult, I get to be scared, ‘s my job. My job, Miles, not yours. Bein’ scared means I keep my wits about, yeah? Means I keep a sharp eye, protectin’ you three.”</p><p>A silent moment ticked by, punctuated with small sniffles.</p><p>“I hate it here.”</p><p>Jamie laughed softly. “Temporary, mate. Temporary.”</p><p>“Because our real home is Bloom Town?”</p><p>“That’s right.”</p><p>“Do you promise?”</p><p>Silence. Then, “You reckon you need some valerian root?”</p><p>“The sleeping tea?” Miles asked, and Jamie must have nodded. “Yes, please. But leave the candle! Leave the candle—please?”</p><p>Dani heard Jamie sigh. “Alright. Alright.”</p><p>Jamie padded down the hall, and perhaps it was just Dani’s imagination but it seemed as though she slowed in front of Dani’s door, paused for a split second, before continuing down the stairs.</p><p>Long moments later she returned, presumably with valerian root tea for Miles.</p><p>Dani sighed as she listened to them talking softly. She couldn’t make out their words anymore, just the low hum of their voices. Her body was thrumming and she was half tempted to fake a nightmare of her own to see if it brought Jamie to her door.</p><p><em>She’s your</em> <em>captor,</em> she reminded herself, desperately trying to stoke the angry fire that had burned so brightly in those first few days. <em>She took you. </em>What right did she have to touch Dani? <em>No right whatsoever,</em> Dani thought, clenching her jaw, pulling like mad at every depth within her, determined to dredge up even a single drop of anger—annoyance, even—so she could fuel it into rage. An image flashed in her mind—Jamie, looking at her with that cocky smirk and that air of indifference like she couldn’t be bothered to care that Dani was thirsty that first morning, or in pain, or uncomfortable with irons cutting off her circulation. It was working. Dani thought back on all the times she’d wanted to rip that smug look from Jamie’s face. <em>Might see if we have any biscuits in the kitchen. Could teach her to do a few tricks. </em>Who did she think she was? No, Dani was never going to let Jamie touch her again. She was awful. It didn’t matter that sometimes she wasn’t awful, the point was she was awful enough to kidnap somebody and, as far as humanity went, that was fairly awful.</p><p>Sure, Dani had gotten distracted by heated looks and desperate touches, but she was seeing things clearly again. So clearly, in fact, that she would speak to her in the morning. Tell her that she’d gotten it all wrong, that she’d be taking meals in her room from now on and perhaps a chaperone would be best because she couldn’t trust Jamie. She was like a snake, and Dani hated snakes. Snakes were sneaky and rather scary and they could twist around and bite you before you could even catch your breath to scream and that was Jamie. Jamie was bad. And Dani didn’t like her one bit. She hated her, in fact. She hated every single thing about—</p><p>Someone was singing. Dani blinked at the ceiling. The voice was soft and melodic, carrying through the paper-thin walls. Jamie, she realized. Singing to Miles. Something calm and distantly familiar. A lullaby, perhaps. She was singing Miles a lullaby because he’d had a nightmare.</p><p>She was awful. She was a snake. Dani hated her. And she was singing Miles a lullaby.</p><p><em>God. </em>Dani was wholly and irrevocably fucked.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Birthday, Paula ;-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>   M:</strong>
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  <strong>She’s pretty, is the thing. The girl. Bit too pretty, I reckon. Wish you were here to tell me to snap out of it, could use a swift fucking hand to the back of my head. Been distracted lately. Last night someone was in Bly and I don’t even know who it was because it was the fucking children and Peter who came back to find him. I can practically hear you coddling me, trying to convince me that I can’t be everywhere at once, that we all slip up now and again. Truth is, I was trying to get a leg over when it happened. On horseback, no less. Which brings me back to my aforementioned predicament: the girl is too fucking pretty. Need to get my head on straight before I do something stupid. There’s a line there, like. Feels wrong, me being her captor. <em>Is </em>wrong, I know, mate. I know. I’ll find a way to get it out of my system. Burn it away on my own time. Anything to get her perfect fucking face off my mind.</strong>
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  <strong>Rations are low again, they’re always fucking low. Swear to God Miles dips into them at night when the rest of us are sleeping. Can’t be Flora, she’s skinny as a bloody twig and if it was Peter he’d make a plate for all of us, leave the kitchen in ruins. He’s too decent for his own good, not a scrap of dishonesty inside him. As it stands we’ll have to venture to the Drifter’s Market before we run out entirely. Will have to bring the girl. How to explain a bloody captive away to Owen and Hannah, I wonder? Christ.</strong>
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  <strong>   -J</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jamie’s dark mood didn’t lighten with the sunrise. If anything it grew worse over breakfast, when Flora suffered a coughing attack that even a strong brew made of herbs from the Kuttuhsippeh did little to assuage.</p><p>By midmorning Jamie was downright intolerable, cursing and punching the doorframe when she went to the saloon’s porch to smoke and realized that the horses had escaped the stable overnight.</p><p>“Asked you twice last night if you’d bolted the door,” she growled at Miles, instantly casting an equally dark shadow over his temperament.</p><p>“I did bolt it!” He shouted, causing Peter to drop his spoon and press his hands over his ears.</p><p>“S’pose Hooper sprouted hands and opened the door himself then,” she spat back, jamming her feet into her boots.</p><p>The horses hadn’t gone far, they were grazing on dried brush by the caves and were led back to the stables easily enough, but it didn’t stop Jamie from muttering the whole way about how she always had to do<em> everythin’</em>.</p><p>Dani helped Flora slip a bridle around Totem to lead her back, and when they led the horse—still gleefully chewing on her snack—back into the stable, they found Jamie forehead to forehead with Moon, stroking her nose.</p><p>“See that?” Flora asked Totem, “Moon’s a perfectly well-behaved horse and you could learn a thing or two from her.” She sighed as she reached up on tip toes, trying to slip Totem’s bridle back off. She couldn’t reach it so Dani helped her.</p><p>“Moon doesn’t run away?” Dani asked.</p><p>Flora shook her head. “Never. She won’t leave the stable unless Jamie tells her she can.”</p><p>“Loyal to a fault, aren’t you. Obedient and clever,” Jamie whispered, kissing Moon’s speckled face before turning to face the rest of them. “Unlike you lot.” She marched out of the stable in a huff, barking as she went, “Bolt the fuckin’ door this time.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Lunchtime rolled around and Flora wanted to make a loaf of bread.</p><p>“Have you had smoky oat bread before, Mrs. O’Mara?” Flora asked, tying the ties of an oversized apron around her little waist. “It’s perfectly lovely and it’s our specialty here in Bly. Come along, I’ll show you.”</p><p>Dani helped her collect this and that in the saloon’s ramshackle kitchen. Mostly the space was used to store food items, while any actual baking took place on the bar top and any cooking required a fire in the pit out front.</p><p>Flora was bringing ingredients from the kitchen to the bar top, her arms piled perhaps one too many items high because suddenly there was a great clatter, followed by a tiny groan.</p><p>Flour, oats and yeast were everywhere, all over the floor, the shelves beneath the backside of the bar top and Flora—she was dusted in white from head to toe.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Dani reassured her as they began to clean up. “We’ll make something else—”</p><p>“We don’t <em>have </em>anythin’ else,” Jamie said, apparently drawn downstairs by the commotion. “Thanks to her clumsiness we’re all set to starve—"</p><p>“Hey!” Dani stood from where she’d been sweeping flour into a pile with a small broom. “It was an accident.”</p><p>“Doubt the particulars will matter much when we’re all so hungry that our fuckin’ stomachs—”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to!” Flora suddenly sobbed.</p><p>“Get out.” Dani stared Jamie down. She was done with her tantrums. “Go.” She jabbed a finger at the door. “Outside, now. And do fifty jumping jacks.”</p><p>“Jumpin’ jacks?” Jamie sneered. “Like—” She gave the smallest wave of her arms, a lazy pantomime.</p><p>Dani nodded.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”</p><p>“It’s what I have my more challenging students do when they can’t control their outbursts.”</p><p>Silence. Then, “Does—does it work?”</p><p>“Absolutely. They burn off the anger and then I invite them back inside for a calm, productive discussion.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes narrowed further. “I’m not a fuckin’ child.” She spun on her heel and headed out the front door.</p><p>Dani turned back to Flora, whose bottom lip was trembling. “It was an accident, it’s fine. Let’s clean up—”</p><p>“What’s Jamie doing?” Miles asked, coming in from the street.</p><p>Dani walked around the bar to peer out the front window and bit her lip to keep from smiling. Jamie was doing jumping jacks, right there in the middle of the street. Dani walked out onto the porch and a moment later Jamie noticed and sent her a look.</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, but she didn’t stop jumping.</p><p>“Is it working?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Dani leaned against the wooden pillar at the side of the saloon’s top stair. “Keep going then.”</p><p>She did, glaring at Dani the whole time with unwavering eye contact and a deep scowl. Jamie wasn’t wrong, she did look ridiculous, and it didn’t take long for a laugh to bubble up.</p><p>Jamie’s scowl deepened. “I’m doin’ what you said and you’re standin’ there havin’ a laugh at my expense.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry—” Dani shook her head, covering her mouth, unable to stop the giggles.</p><p>Jamie stopped jumping and with the face she was making Dani prepared for her temper to reappear with a vengeance, but suddenly her lips were curling and her shoulders were shaking.</p><p>“Bloody absurd.”</p><p>“But,” <em>it worked</em>, Dani was about to say, except just then she heard it again, the long lonely whistle piercing the desert silence. The train.</p><p>Dani looked down the street, out past where she could just make out the main gate. Out toward the horizon. The noise faded and she looked back at Jamie, who was watching her with a strange look on her face.</p><p>“Farther away than it sounds,” Jamie said quickly.</p><p>“I told you last night that I wasn’t going to go run. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Jamie nodded. “Good. But actually we’re all goin’ somewhere. There really isn’t anythin’ left in the cupboards.”</p><p>“Do we have to go to town?” Dani had promised she wouldn’t run, but going back to civilization where people had undoubtedly heard of her abduction, where she might be recognized—the thought had her heart skipping a beat.</p><p>“Not town. The Drifter’s Market.”</p><p>“The Drifter’s Market!” Flora screeched from the doorway. “Oh, Mrs. O’Mara, wait until you see—you’ll never find a more brilliant place in all the world and we’ll show you everything, it will all be so perfectly—“</p><p>“We’re going to the Drifter’s Market?” Miles appeared behind Flora, inexplicably covered in flour despite having been nowhere near the initial spill. “Peter!” He shouted. “Drifter’s Market!” </p><p>And then there was Peter, somehow also covered in flour, beaming and clapping his hands. </p><p>“Mate, come help tack the horses,” Jamie nodded to Peter. “You lot be ready to ride out in ten.”</p><p>As Jamie and Peter headed down the street in the direction of the stable Dani glanced down at herself—she’d put on the blue cotton dress that morning—and made the split second decision to call after Jamie. Jamie turned around, waiting.</p><p>“If we’re riding again, I—what I mean to say is that it would be easier if I could just—” She knew the minute she asked Jamie would have that arrogant smirk, like somehow just by asking Dani was proving Jamie right. “Can I wear trousers again?”</p><p>There it was. The smirk. But only a flash of it before Jamie was telling Flora to find Dani an outfit upstairs.</p><p>“Oi,” Jamie called when Dani was about to follow Flora into the saloon, “not Cottonwood, remember?”</p><p>Dani shrugged, not understanding, and Jamie threw her off balance by sending her a genuine smile, teeth and all. “Don’t have to ask ‘bout shite like that. You can wear whatever the fuck you want.”</p><p>It was simple and small, but the words chipped away at something inside of her. <em>She could</em>, she realized. She could wear whatever she wanted here and it didn’t make a bit of a difference. No repercussions, no risk to her reputation.</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara!” Flora called from upstairs and Dani tore her eyes away from where she’d been watching Jamie walk away, turning to go inside.</p><p> </p><p><br/>                                                                        ~*~</p><p>
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</p><p>“So what exactly <em>is </em>a Drifter’s Market?” Dani asked an hour later when they were riding across the dry land, the afternoon sun casting long cactus-shaped shadows. She was riding in front of Jamie, her legs taut with her efforts to keep space between them. If she had nothing else, at least she’d have her pride.</p><p>“Lots of people livin’ out here on the fringes, like. Wanderin’. Mostly types who aren’t welcome in the towns.”</p><p>“Like...criminals?”</p><p>“Outsiders. Maybe the odd criminal or two.” There was a smile in her voice when she said it. “Anyway, the Drifter’s Market is how all us fuckin’ vagabonds survive. Can find anythin’ there—no bullshit, name somethin’ and I guarantee they have it—seriously, name somethin’.”</p><p>“A silk bonnet. Lavender with black lace and pearl detailing.”</p><p>“Oddly specific, but—”</p><p>“I had one. Brand new, I bought it for Promise and it cost a small fortune. It’s in my luggage somewhere...wherever my things ended up. So you owe me. A lavender bonnet.”</p><p>“Owe you, do I?” She <em>tsked. </em>“Can’t imagine it’d be much of a compliment with your current get up.”</p><p>She wasn’t wrong. Flora had given her an array of options earlier and Dani had decided on a button up shirt—sand colored silk with delicate dark brown stripes and brown velvet buttons. For trousers she’d found a pair that matched perfectly—a looser pair of dark brown pants with large black buttons on either side in front.</p><p>“And a finishing touch!” Flora had said with great fanfare, pulling a coffee-colored bandana with more stripes from a chest in the corner of the large closet and tying it around Dani’s neck. “You look a perfect picture,” she’d said, standing back and admiring her work.</p><p>Jamie had done a double take when she’d walked out onto the porch, which had been oddly satisfying. For her part, Jamie had changed into black trousers and a dark canvas jacket cut off at the sleeves over a linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She had a bandolier full of bullets strapped across her chest, a pair of dark gloves on her hands and, as always, her black cowboy hat, tilted and casting her face in shadows. She looked dangerous, more so than usual, and Dani found herself wondering what perils awaited them in the marketplace.</p><p>“A lavender bonnet,” Jamie repeated, softly and almost to herself. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice and Dani twisted around the look at her.</p><p>“Yes,” Dani said, sounding defensive. “I happen to like pretty things.”</p><p>“Big fan of pretty things myself. Just don’t like wearin’ them on my head.”</p><p>“Or anywhere else.” She’d meant it as a dig, albeit a playful one, at Jamie’s exclusively masculine clothing preferences. But then Jamie’s eyebrow arched and <em>God</em>, Dani winced internally, she’d laid this one right out for her. </p><p>“Shall I list ‘em for you then?” Jamie smirked. “All the places I’ve imagined wearin’ you. Drapin’ you across me—“</p><p>“You know what? You’re all talk,” Dani said, shocking herself and turning back around to face frontwards.</p><p>Jamie let out a shocked laugh herself. “Is that what you think?”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Dani hummed, her neck tingling as Jamie leaned in, “that’s exactly what I think.”</p><p>“Was I all talk last night?” Her hand was toying with the waistband of Dani’s trousers in the shadowed space between them on the saddle. “Not my fault, the interruption. Not my fault we didn’t...” She pushed into Dani just once, light and barely there.</p><p>“You know where I sleep. You could’ve...” What was she saying? Danielle O’Mara didn’t do this, didn’t speak this way.</p><p>“Could’ve what? Could’ve ravished you?” </p><p>Dani turned and gave a small shrug, looking up at her through her thick lashes, biting the inside of her lip and making her eyes as wide and innocent as she could. </p><p>Jamie shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “Christ, woman. You’ll be the end of my sanity.” She sighed. “Don’t make a habit of ravishin’ married women, especially the pretty ones. Prettier they are, the messier the fall out. What? What’re you smilin’ at?”</p><p>“You think I’m pretty.”</p><p>Jamie’s voice was quiet. “You know you are.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Drifter’s Market was hidden away from the rest of the desert, the entrance an ordinary looking mine shaft, abandoned beams and carts scattered haphazardly. They rode the horses right into the mine, and a hundred feet into the dark tunnel they began to pass by hanging gas lamps, flickering in the dim hallway. The horses seemed to know the way, clomping along the packed ground and turning off at one point, following the gas lamps to a large antechamber. Dani gasped. The chamber had been turned into a stable—a young boy was pouring fresh water into a large trough at the center of the room, makeshift stalls had been erected all along the sides, the majority of them already occupied with happily munching horses. Each stall was fitted with a swinging door outfitted with a lantern, presumably so the horses could eat by candlelight—the stalls were also piled high with fresh grass and hay. They dismounted by the trough and Jamie pulled out several bills, paying the young stableboy who tipped his hat and let the horses drink their fill as he readied their stalls. Jamie reached into Moon’s saddlebag, pulling out two plants in tiny clay pots.</p><p>She shrugged when she caught Dani eyeing her. “Fetch a fair price here,” she said. “Not a lot of fresh herbs in these parts.”</p><p>“And where do <em>you </em>get them?” Dani asked.</p><p>Jamie widened her eyes, shrugging theatrically as she slid by Dani, heading across the stable.</p><p>On the opposite side of the cavernous stable there was a gaping hole in the wall, and Dani and the others followed Jamie in that direction. The hole led to yet another hallway lit with more hanging gas lamps, and at the end of <em>this </em>tunnel, backlit by the blinding daylight ahead, a wooden sign with the words Drifter’s Market hung from two short chains. The words had been made from odds and ends—a horseshoe and small animal bone had been arranged to make the D. There was a pipe for the r, a pickaxe for the T. A broken pair of glasses had been bent to create the M.<br/><br/>They passed beneath the sign, stepping from the cave and into a truly massive space, open to the sky above but fully enclosed by towering walls of red rock. There were people everywhere, the entire market bustling and busy, the noise and clamor echoing off the rock walls. Dani stopped following Peter into the throng and just stood, taking it all in. The space appeared to be vaguely circular and utterly humongous—from where she stood Dani could barely see across to the other side. In the center there were rows and rows of tents and tables, seemingly all made from found items—scraps of burlap sewn together, shipping crates stacked and repurposed—all different sizes and colors, displaying a staggering variety of wares. All along the edges of the market, tucked back against the rock were larger shops that customers could actually enter into, some made of large planks, resembling little huts, others made of wood beams and red clay, little gas lamps hanging from their eaves. There was a shop made of several covered wagons that had been stripped of their wheels, a large door cut into the curved side of the front wagon. Another shop appeared to be made from a pair of black boxcars, the shipping compartments from an old train, and Dani couldn’t begin to imagine how they’d been transported—they were several times larger than the tunnel’s entrance and there wasn’t a railroad track in sight. </p><p>Dani had lost sight of the others, even Peter’s tall form had disappeared into the crowd and she hurried after them in the general direction they’d been heading.</p><p>A clammy hand closed around her wrist.</p><p>“Looking to forget your sorrows, miss?” A filthy man leered at her, his smile brown and short several teeth.</p><p>“Oh, no—I’m just—”</p><p>But he was already tugging her along in the direction of the boxcar shop. “Only a half-dollar for the first dream stick,” he said. “Or an easy five for all the molasses you can smoke in an hour,” he grinned grotesquely, tapping a pocket watch he’d produced from his pinstriped vest. “What do you say?”</p><p>“I’m really not—”</p><p>He was still tugging her. “A discount for the pretty lady, then, right this way, let’s see if we can burn those troubles away—”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Jamie hissed at the man, grabbing Dani’s other wrist.</p><p>The man instantly let go, raising his palms innocently but still leering.</p><p>Jamie pulled her along, shaking her head at her when they were far enough away. “I lose sight of you for one minute and you’re off to the fuckin’ opium den.”</p><p>“Opium? I didn’t—” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I wasn’t going to <em>go</em> with him, he was just very persistent—”</p><p>“Gotta keep your wits about you here,” Jamie looked left and right. “Plenty of wonders, plenty of lowlifes.” Jamie began pulling her along again and a moment later Dani spotted the others standing by a table of daggers and knives, Miles admiring the fine detail on one particularly fancy hilt.</p><p>His face lit up when he saw Jamie and he held up the knife. “Can I have—”</p><p>“No.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded stack of bills, licking her finger and counting them out. “Have to run a couple errands. And you lot,” she raised a brow at Peter and the children, “are gonna show this one round, yeah?”</p><p>“Certainly,” Miles said, offering Dani an elbow like a little gentleman as Flora bounced excitedly by their side.</p><p>“Two for you,” Jamie said, handing Peter two dollars. “And two for you two,” she handed two more to Miles, then another two to Flora. “Find yourself a toy or somethin’ sweet. Don’t bin it all on the gamblin’ tables like last time,” she said, looking specifically at Flora, who blushed.</p><p>Jamie gave them all one more look over, but before she could take off on her own Dani held her own hand out, waiting.</p><p>Jamie’s brow crept up again, her mouth curling. “Seriously?”</p><p>“I like sweets too.”</p><p>“Bet you do,” Jamie’s smile was sly as she pulled out two more dollars and handed them to Dani, who stared down at the money for a moment—she hadn’t expected Jamie to actually give her any.</p><p>Jamie pushed Dani’s hand down. “Quit wavin’ it round, if someone nicks it I’m not givin’ you more.” She touched her fingers to the brim of her hat. “Meet back here in an hour.” She pointed up at a large rusty clock bolted right into the rock face above the main entrance before stepping back and disappearing in the crowd.</p><p>“So,” Dani looked around at them, “where to?”</p><p> </p><p>They wandered through the aisles, stopping when something caught their interest. Flora seemed positively overjoyed by absolutely everything—she displayed equal enthusiasm for both the doll maker and the monocle vendor. Miles, Dani began to notice, had a rather magnetic pull toward all things sharp and shiny. Weapons, mostly, and more than once his face fell after asking a rifle or knife dealer what he could buy with two dollars.</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara, come see!” Flora called at one point, pulling her toward the shop on the market’s outer edge made from several covered wagons.</p><p>“Noah’s Doormats?” Miles sounded out the shop name painted on a sign hanging over the entrance.</p><p>“Close,” Dani smiled at him. “Noah’s Domestics.”</p><p>“Sounds boring,” Miles said, eyeing a man purchasing a shot gun several tables away.</p><p>“It’s not,” Flora said, “it’s perfectly—OH!” Her hands flew to her mouth the moment she stepped inside.</p><p>Dani and the boys followed after her and found themselves in what appeared to be a pet store. An elderly man who introduced himself as Noah was seated on a barrel beside a table, feeding an iguana that was perched on his shoulder.</p><p>“Birds,” Peter said with a little smile, nodding at all the perches he had to duck around to meander through the little shop.</p><p>He wasn’t wrong, the tiny feathered creatures were all over the place, colorful and loud. There was a wooden crate full of hay with an assortment of fluffy bunnies fast asleep, and Dani stroked a finger down the back of a fluffy gray one, smiling as it twitched in its sleep.</p><p>“Looks like dinner,” Miles said, appearing at Dani’s side to peer down at the bunnies.</p><p>“Don’t be horrid Miles,” Flora said, before squealing loud enough to disrupt several birds from their perches. “Miles! <em>Look</em>!”</p><p>He hurried over to where Flora was leaning over a little pen, and Dani wandered over after him. The floor of the pen was covered with blankets and toys, and six small kittens were playing in the middle of it all, wrestling and tumbling over one another.</p><p>“I want this one,” Flora said, reaching down and picking up a fluffy Siamese. “Oh, isn’t he just divine?” She buried her face in the kitten’s fluff. “I love him, Mrs. O’Mara, don’t you?”</p><p>Dani took the kitten from her, kissing its little paw. It was precious. She’d always had a soft spot for kittens, she’d fed several strays that had made a home beneath the schoolhouse stairs.</p><p>Beside her Miles was snuggling a jet black one. “I could call him Hooper Two,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he nuzzled its nose.</p><p>“No wait, I want this one,” Flora was reaching down for a black and white tuxedo kitten. “I’ll call him Penguin and he’ll be my—wait, I want <em>this </em>one—" She reached back in for a tiny calico.</p><p>The shop owner appeared behind them with a small woven crate. “A litter for the littles?” He asked, smiling at the children.</p><p>“Please!” Said Flora, now balancing three kittens in her arms, trying to stuff them all into the crate Noah was offering her.</p><p>“Wait a minute,” Dani said, though it did little to slow Flora down—she was already reaching back in for the fourth and fifth kitten, “Jamie said a toy or sweets, not—not kittens. We should wait and check with—”</p><p>“Oh but she’ll be perfectly thrilled with them, Mrs. O’Mara, nothing would make her happier,” Flora said, helping Miles add the black kitten to the mewling crate.</p><p>Dani happened to glance over at Peter, who made direct eye contact as he slowly shook his head. <em>No. </em>Dani stifled a giggle.</p><p>“Believe me, nothing would please me more than watching Jamie’s face when you tell her you bought six kittens, but we’re going to have to leave them here for now.”</p><p>Flora groaned, but began putting the kittens back into the pen.</p><p>“That isn’t fair!” Miles said, stomping his foot.</p><p>Dani raised an eyebrow and bent down until she was at his eye level. “I saw you eyeing the rifles out there,” Dani nodded in the direction of the door.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So if you want a rifle you’ll have to learn to control your temper,” Dani said. “Can’t walk around with a firearm if you’re going to blow up every time you hear the word <em>no</em>.”</p><p>Miles’ eyes narrowed. “Jamie has loads of guns and her temper’s worse than anyone’s.”</p><p>Dani straightened back up, sighing.</p><p>“Besides,” Miles was saying, “I’ve had a revolver for years and I don’t go round shooting people just because I’m cross.”</p><p><strong>  </strong><em>Impossible.</em> They were impossible, all of them.</p><p> </p><p>“This place is my favorite!” Flora said when they were back outside, passing by a wooden shack with several strange symbols painted in black on the side. She’d recovered quickly from the kitten disappointment, eager to show Dani as much of the market as they could with the time remaining.</p><p>“I’m rather peckish,” Miles agreed, “Peter?”</p><p>“Peckish,” he nodded.</p><p>Dani followed them into the shop. The interior was nearly as simple and bare as the exterior, with the exception of two rickety tables, a handful of chairs and several colorful paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. And the smells. The intoxicating, stomach-growl-inducing smells.</p><p>A woman appeared from in back, greeting the children enthusiastically.</p><p>“My favorite customers, back again!” She said, bowing to them.</p><p>“Nǐ hǎo, Zhang Min!” Both children chorused, returning the woman’s bow.  </p><p>It occurred to Dani, as the children chattered back and forth with the woman in what Dani strongly suspected was Chinese, that perhaps there’d been some truth in what Jamie had told her about their education. They spoke at least three languages by Dani’s count, and they had the charisma to charm everyone they came across. Jamie really had taught them how to survive.</p><p>After a lunch of spiced meat drenched in a tangy spicy sauce over a bowl of rice they wandered back out to the marketplace and Dani glanced at the clock. Twenty-five minutes until they had to meet Jamie.</p><p> </p><p>Dani followed behind the others as they meandered this way and that, darting into shops and over to tables whenever anything caught their eye.</p><p>“Why, Mrs. O’Mara, look!” Miles called from a wide table. “We could have a proper classroom.”</p><p>The vendor was selling parchment and pencils, pens and bound journals with blank, pulpy pages. Dani bought one of everything—including a journal for Miles and another for Flora. The final tally came to nearly three dollars and she blushed, trying to figure out what to put back, when suddenly Peter handed her one of his own dollars, crumpled and soggy from his mouth.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>He nodded. Dani smiled at him, and he blushed.</p><p>They circled around the entire market and were almost back to where they’d started when Flora and Miles took off in the direction of the toy shop, Peter wandering after them.</p><p>Dani was about to follow when suddenly something caught her eye. Jamie, in the shadows by the opium den, talking to a woman with red hair and redder lips. She was wearing a black dress skirt and what appeared to be a brightly colored corset on top—and nothing else. She kept leaning in, the woman, smiling at Jamie in a way that sent something slithering through Dani’s stomach. For her part Jamie seemed quietly confident, like she knew the woman, chatting softly with one hand in her pocket and the other by her chest, a thumb hooked into the belt of her bandolier. Then, the woman produced a folded stack of papers from her dress skirt and handed it to Jamie. Jamie tucked the stack into her canvas jacket, glancing around surreptitiously before handing the woman several bills. The woman took the money but didn’t let go of Jamie’s hand, giggling and tugging Jamie closer. <em>Flirting. </em>Finally, Jamie seemed to acquiesce, leaning in and kissing the woman on the cheek, touching her chin with a wink before stepping away. Dani turned around before Jamie could catch her staring, forcing herself to unclench her jaw.</p><p> </p><p>When it was time to reconvene, Jamie was waiting at the rendezvous, and she sent Dani a warm smile when she caught her eyes across the way. Dani looked down instead of smiling back. Petty, to be sure. She caught sight of her own blonde braid draped over her shoulder. The sight of it reminded her of her own ordinariness. A pale comparison to ruby lips and fiery hair. She hadn’t looked in a mirror in days. How ridiculous to think that Jamie didn’t have more attractive options. How embarrassing.</p><p>She paid little attention to the discussion the children were having with Jamie until it was announced that they would stop in at Dessert Sun before leaving. Dani didn’t know what that meant, but she followed as the children once again began weaving throught the crowds.</p><p>“Oi,” Jamie said behind her, tapping her once.</p><p>Dani turned.</p><p>“It’s not lavender and lace, but.” Jamie shrugged and held out a hat, wide-brimmed and dark green with a curved top, a satiny brown ribbon around it.  </p><p>Dani stared at it. <em>What is this? </em>She wanted to ask for the thousandth time. <em>What am I to you?</em></p><p>Jamie flopped the hat onto her head when Dani didn’t reach out to take it.</p><p>“Looks good,” Jamie said with a nod and a smile. Then she seemed to notice Dani’s crestfallen demeanor. “Everythin’ alright?”</p><p>And what was there to say except, “Sure. Yes, I—” Dani forced a little smile. “Thank you. For the hat.”</p><p><br/><br/>At the far edge of the market there was a roughly constructed stairway of wooden planks leading up to an expansive rocky ledge. The ledge was sheltered by another overhang, and the space between was essentially a wide gash in the rock wall. Gas lamps hung from rusty hooks bolted in all along the top overhang, and there was a sign: Dessert Sun. There was an image painted onto the sign—a pie, rising over the horizon as if it were the sun. The rays were pie slices.</p><p>A kind looking man with a handlebar mustache and a monocle greeted them at the top of the stairs.</p><p>“Owen!” Flora cried, launching herself into the man’s waiting arms.</p><p>Miles greeted him with a handshake routine that involved snaps and wiggles and a spin at the finale.</p><p>A woman appeared beside them, smiling down at Miles. “He’s missed you,” she said, “it’s hard for him when there are no other children to play with.”</p><p>The man, Owen, feigned offense, gasping at her.</p><p>“And a new face, I see,” the woman said, eyeing Jamie as she smiled at Dani.</p><p>For a split second Dani saw Jamie falter—she swallowed, her forehead crinkled. And Dani, for some godforsaken reason, rushed to her rescue.</p><p>“Dani O’Mara,” she offered the woman her hand. “Traveling tutor. Jamie’s hired me to help with these two.”</p><p>“Gracious, a tutor!” The woman looked impressed. “Hannah Grose,” she said, clasping Dani’s hand warmly. She was beautiful—dark brown skin and bright eyes. And Dani had never met a woman who wore her hair the way Hannah did—that is, she had none, she’d sheared it off at the scalp. Somehow it only added to her elegance.</p><p>“Well come on,” Owen said, after introducing himself to Dani as the chef and owner of Dessert Sun, “the pastries won’t eat themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Over a delicious helping of fire-baked tarts, Owen, with the occasional help from Miles and Flora, told Dani how his family had come to the United States from India before he was born. His mother had taught him to be a chef and he dreamed of opening his own restaurant in one of the cities out west, to capitalize on the gold rush.</p><p>“Ah well,” he’d said, with a small smile and a smaller shrug. “I ought to be grateful for this place, I suppose.”</p><p>Dani shook her head, confused. “But your food is incredible—”<br/>He blushed and waved the compliment away.</p><p>“No, seriously, this is incredible—” she pointed at the tart, full of fresh fruit and berries and cold cream which was rather like magic in itself—they were in the middle of the desert. “I don’t understand, your restaurant would be a huge success!”</p><p>He smiled sadly, opening his mouth to say something when Jamie cut him off.</p><p>“It would,” she said, “if he was allowed to own one.”</p><p>Dani felt her forehead furrow.</p><p>“They don’t take kindly to immigrants in the cities,” Jamie said.</p><p>“Especially not the brown ones,” Owen added, and his chipper tone did nothing to hide the ugliness of the sentence.</p><p>“And certainly not the brown ones who are married to browner ones,” Hannah said softly, nudging him lightly.</p><p>He took her hand and kissed it, winking at her. “<em>But,</em>” he said suddenly and importantly, “limited though our opportunities may be, they brought us here to you lot, and that’s a fine fortune if I ever—”</p><p>“It’s reprehensible,” Dani interrupted, and all eyes were on her. “To not allow you to open a restaurant, I mean. It’s reprehensible.”</p><p>Owen smiled at her and it didn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>“She’s from Cottonwood, Iowa,” Jamie said softly when the silence stretched. “Small town. Religious.”</p><p>Owen and Hannah nodded in unison, understanding.</p><p>Jamie hadn’t said it unkindly, she’d only meant to explain, but still. There was shame in how little she knew of the world, Dani realized. And every day since being taken she felt like she’d grown smaller and smaller and smaller. Like she might disappear altogether. Fade into insignificance and take every ignorant notion in her head along with her.</p><p>“But you left,” Hannah said, seeming to sense Dani’s humiliation. The woman smiled at her, kind and encouraging. “You left, and that’s more than most can ever say.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                                                                               ~*~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That night, after they arrived back in Bly, Jamie went to water and stable the horses while Dani helped the others put away the newly purchased provisions in the saloon.</p><p>“It’s a lovely evening,” Dani said, and it really was—a soft breeze was taking the edge off the heat. “We should eat dinner outside.”</p><p>“What a splendid idea, Mrs. O’Mara!” Flora said gleefully.</p><p>Dani headed toward the door to go brush the day’s dust off of the table on the porch, throwing a smile back over her shoulder at Flora and running smack dab into Jamie who was on her way in.</p><p>“Blimey,” Jamie sent her a look before bending to collect all the items that had been knocked from her arms in the collision. “Goin’ somewhere?”</p><p>“No, no I—,” Dani bent down to help her, picking up the wrapped pie that Owen had sent them home with, “just to the porch.” She began collecting the papers that Jamie had been given by the girl in the market, collecting them in a stack and offering them back to Jamie, “We were thinking of having a—” her eyes flicked down to the papers. Her heart stopped.</p><p><em>WANTED</em>, was the first thing she read, printed in bold letters across the top. Then, below, a name: <em>JT LONDON</em>. And below that, a large, grainy photograph of Jamie.</p><p>Jamie snatched the papers away, eyeing Dani. “Having a what?”</p><p>“Huh?” Dani swallowed, her throat was suddenly bone dry.</p><p>“You just said you were thinkin’ of havin’ a…?”</p><p>“Oh!” Dani overcompensated by nodding too quickly. “A picnic. On the porch. For dinner.”</p><p>“Quaint,” Jamie said, sending Dani a little smile full of warmth without a hint of suspicion—like she had no idea that Dani had read the poster.</p><p>The children needed help in the kitchen after that and the evening progressed—a loaf of smoky oat bread was finally baked, the porch table was set. On one of her trips from the porch to the kitchen Dani noticed a piece of paper that had slid beneath an armchair, unnoticed.</p><p>She swallowed. Looked around. Went and retrieved it. Brought it out to the porch to read it.</p><p>
  <em>WANTED. JT LONDON. FOR MURDER AND THE KIDNAPPING OF TWO INNOCENTS. $1000 REWARD.</em>
</p><p>Dani stared down at the photograph. She’d only seen one other photograph before at a traveling fair that had set up in the field outside of Cottonwood and managed to stay in operation for an entire day before the church shut them down. Despite her deep scowl, Jamie looked several years younger in the photograph. Murder. <em>Oh, God. </em>She was wanted for <em>murder.</em> At the bottom of the poster there were two sketches, side by side, and Dani’s heart sunk. Miles and Flora. Miles looked much younger and Flora was a toddler, presumably they’d been sketched shortly after Jamie had first taken them. <em>Taken them. </em>Her stomach clenched. <em>No. </em>It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have kidnapped them, they <em>loved</em> her. She was good to them and they loved her. <em>You feel something for her,</em> that unwelcomed voice inside whispered, <em>and she kidnapped you</em>. For once, Dani didn’t shove the thought into the dark cluttered corner. She kept it centerstage and let it burn under the spotlight. <em>Enough. </em>It was time to end this charade. Jamie had murdered someone—<em>who? </em>Dani’s mind raced to try to puzzle it all together, but <em>no</em>, it didn’t even matter. She had to get out. She had to run. Jamie had murdered and kidnapped innocent children—Flora looked barely been two years old in the sketch. What kind of monster was capable of such a thing? And <em>why</em>? And the fact that she could just go on living, running from the law and dragging the poor children along with her. Letting Dani believe she actually <em>cared </em>for them, that she was capable of caring for anyone. It was too much.</p><p><em>Tonight.</em> She’d escape later that night. She’d find her moment and she’d run, and this time she wouldn’t stop until she’d reached those train tracks.</p><p>Dani folded the paper in quarters, hiding it deep in the pocket of her trousers. She’d find her way to a town and then, first chance she got, she would turn Jamie in. Tell the nearest sheriff exactly where he could find her. Then she’d take that reward money and use every last dime to help Miles and Flora get back home to wherever it was they’d come from. Whatever life she’d robbed them of. Their <em>real </em>family, who’d undoubtedly lost hope long ago.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Her moment came after dinner, when a spark of genius came to her from out of the blue. She was clearing plates from the porch, piling them high and rejecting Jamie’s offers to help.</p><p>“You sure? It’s no problem, you’ll kill yourself tryin’ to take all of—" Jamie had stood, reaching out and Dani had swiveled away, nearly dropping the stack of plates in the process.</p><p>“It’s fine,” she practically shouted, forcing her voice back to normal. “It’s fine. Just relax.”</p><p>Jamie knew something was off. It was in the way she looked at Dani a little longer than necessary, her eyes sharp and calculating.</p><p>Dani dropped the dishes in the kitchen beside the remainder of the oat loaf and sagged against the counter, sighing. She needed to hold it together, she couldn’t afford to panic. The <em>WANTED </em>poster burned in her pocket against her thigh. That’s when she spotted it. The cannister on the countertop, innocuous and small.</p><p>Valerian Root, the label read. <em>The sleeping tea</em>, Miles’ voice echoed in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>“I made tea,” Dani announced, attempting a casual tone as she brought the steaming pot out to the others, still sitting on the porch in the soft darkness, a lantern flickering overhead.</p><p>“Did you now,” Jamie said absently, in the middle of a card game with Flora.</p><p>“Now that we have sugar,” Dani said, thinking it up on the spot, “I thought I’d make tea the way we drink it in Iowa.”</p><p>“Reckon you should keep everythin’ done in Iowa locked up well within state lines and leave the rest of us be,” Jamie said, selecting a card from Flora’s hand while Flora grinned at her, attempting a poker face.</p><p>“I’ll take some tea,” Miles said from somewhere behind Dani, and Dani turned to see him sitting beside Peter in a chair on the opposite side of the porch, legs crossed on the railing, smoking a pipe.</p><p>“Miles!” Dani looked at him incredulously. “Jamie, is he—” She’d forgotten for a moment about the evening’s revelations but she remembered the instant Jamie’s sharp eyes were on her.</p><p>“What?” Jamie asked, but then she looked past her and noticed Miles smoking. “Not too much, mate,” she said, turning back to face Flora and the cards. She glanced back once, probably because she realized Dani hadn’t moved from where she’d been gawking. Jamie shrugged. “It’s just a spot of tobacco, he’ll live.”</p><p>Dani couldn’t pour the tea fast enough. With any luck they’d all be asleep shortly, and Dani could put everything—and everyone—back where they belonged.</p><p> </p><p>She rolled a little ball of bread that she’d pulled from the oat loaf’s soft interior, sneaking upstairs to stuff it into the lock. She pushed it all the way in, peering into the little hole. She’d done this once as a child when she’d been locked in her room for talking back. It’d worked—just a little bit of soft bread and the lock would <em>appear </em>to latch but the inner mechanism wouldn’t catch. She’d be free to leave.</p><p> </p><p>The others murmured their goodnights in the hall. Jamie said goodnight at the door, and there was a look on her face, a bit like she wanted to step inside and close the door behind them both. But Dani feigned a yawn, muttering something about being tired enough to die, and with a soft smile Jamie wished her pleasant dreams. <em>Pleasant dreams</em>, Dani could’ve laughed. Pleasant dreams amidst a living nightmare. When all was quiet, Dani began to count. <em>One. Two. Three. Four. Five.</em> <em>Six. Seven…</em></p><p> </p><p>She counted to sixty, sixty times. An hour. And all was silent.</p><p>The door opened without making a sound. She carried her boots yet it did little to stop the stairs from squeaking, but she paused at the bottom and all was quiet and still.</p><p>Once she was outside she kept to the shadows. Scurrying down the street to the stable. She hoisted a saddle from the tack closet, slung it over the nearest horse. Totem, she thought—it was hard to be sure in the stable’s darkness.</p><p>She walked the horse—it <em>was </em>Totem after all—to the edge of Bly. Climbed on. Looked back once. And with a swift kick to Totem’s flanks, she took off in what she was certain was the direction of the train whistle.</p><p>The moon was bright. Totem was agreeable and swift. They rode and rode and rode.</p><p>A good while later the moon slipped behind some clouds and Totem slowed just a bit, the night suddenly far darker than it had been. Dani urged her onward, kicking her back into a gallop while whispering an apology and patting her neck. Dani was so focused on maintaining their speed, she almost didn’t hear the sound of hooves approaching.</p><p>This time she would’ve preferred Natives. But it wasn’t, it was her. Dani knew the instant she glanced back and saw the white horse gaining on Totem.</p><p>Dani flattened herself in the saddle and kicked desperately at Totem’s flanks. Totem ran even faster, the bunch and stretch of her muscles seemingly at their absolute limit. Jamie was shouting, Dani was ignoring her. <em>Murder. </em>She’d murdered someone. She’d done it once, she could do it again, Dani was sure.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly there was a strange pressure around Dani’s waist and then she was airborne—momentarily weightless beneath the cloudy sky in what was perhaps the most disorienting few seconds of her life. She landed on her back, skidding along the desert floor over rocks and small, splintery bushes. She stared at the sky, confused and breathless. Behind her Jamie had dismounted, Dani could hear her calming Totem. A moment later she appeared at Dani’s side, arms crossed, peering down at her.</p><p>“Valerian root tea,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Clever.”</p><p>“And you’re—what?" Dani groaned. "Immuned?”</p><p>“Impolite, more like. The others were too kind to tell you your tea was rubbish. I tossed the contents of my cup over the railin’ first chance I got.”</p><p>Dani sighed, then looked down the length of her body to find the source of the pressure still cutting into her sides. A lasso. She’d <em>lassoed </em>her.</p><p>Dani glared up at her. “You could’ve killed me.”</p><p>“You were about to kill yourself,” Jamie spat, “and take Flora’s horse down with you, you selfish—” She bit off the end of the sentence, turning away with a frustrated noise. “Look!” She pointed, and Dani looked.</p><p>The clouds had moved, the moon was back out, and less than a hundred yards away the ground ended abruptly and there was a canyon, dark and wide. Dani couldn’t even see across to the other side.</p><p>She felt all the blood leave her face. She would’ve ridden Totem right off the edge. Horror bubbled in her chest and she scrambled up, tearing at the rope around her waist. Panic surged in her veins as every frantic movement only seemed to have the rope constricting tighter and tighter. She barely registered Jamie stepping in, trying to remove the rope herself.</p><p>Dani tore at it. “Get it off me!”</p><p>“Stand the fuck still, I’m tryin’—“ Jamie finally managed to loosen it and the lasso slipped down to the ground.</p><p>A silent moment passed as Dani just stared at the dark abyss that had nearly swallowed her.</p><p>“Said you wouldn’t run,” Jamie muttered softly, collecting the rope.</p><p>Dani swallowed. Turned to face her. “That was before I knew.”</p><p>“Knew what?”</p><p>“Who?” She whispered. “Who did you kill?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I want to know who you killed.”</p><p>Something dark passed behind Jamie’s eyes. “Not havin’ this conversation here in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere at half midnight.” She took Dani’s hand, attempting to lead her to the horses.</p><p>Dani ripped her hand back. “I’m not going with you.”</p><p>Jamie sighed at the sky. “Back to this, are we?”</p><p>“You killed somebody,” she shook her head at her. “I saw the poster—”</p><p>Jamie looked at her, cold and unwavering. “He deserved to die.”</p><p>Dani felt tears welling. She’d felt something for this woman, she’d <em>wanted</em> this woman. “You took the children. You stole them—“</p><p>“I saved them.”</p><p>“Like you saved me?”</p><p>A moment passed and it seemed Jamie was waging an internal battle. “I’ll tell you, I’ll explain, but just get on the horse—“</p><p>And then it happened again, for the second time that day. The train whistle. Blaring loud and close, the thunderous clacking of the tracks reverberating in the canyon below. The train was right there below them. It was right there.</p><p>Dani looked at Jamie. There was a look on Jamie’s face—she knew what Dani was about to do, and she lunged, but she wasn’t fast enough. </p><p>Dani wasn’t wearing a corset this time. No fancy heeled boots, no frilly skirt. She could <em>run</em>. She sprinted, keeping parallel with the canyon, frantically thinking that she could keep up with the train, find a way to meet it when the ground leveled out. She’d run at least a hundred feet when Jamie tackled her from behind, Dani’s brand new hat knocked off her head as she fell. </p><p>“Don’t run,” Jamie panted, “please don’t run—just let me explain—“</p><p>“Explain <em>what</em>? You’re a criminal. And I’m going to turn you in to the first sheriff I see once I’m free because—“</p><p>“You won’t.”</p><p>“Watch me. Why wouldn’t I? You’re a bad person—“</p><p>But Jamie was shaking her head, small and slow. “You know I’m not.”</p><p>“I don’t know anything about you except that you kidnap and kill people—“</p><p>Suddenly Jamie rolled them like it was nothing, pinning Dani’s arms by her sides. Giving Dani the unnerving feeling that she’d had the upper hand all along and had simply chosen to let Dani believe she had control for a moment. </p><p>She leaned down to peer at Dani. “You know plenty. You know I’d fuckin’ die for those two. The little ones. Same as I’d die for Peter. You know I haven’t been cruel to you, not since—I’ve been tryin’, like, been more decent toward you haven’t I? And—“</p><p>“To be clear—you want credit for not being additionally cruel to the woman you forced into captivity?”</p><p>“Well—a bit, yeah. And no, it’s not—“</p><p>Jamie glanced away for a split second, searching the landscape as she stumbled to find the words and Dani seized the moment,  twisting violently, freeing an arm and knocking Jamie aside. Dani scrabbled at the ground, digging her fingers into the cold dirt, trying to pull herself out from under Jamie. </p><p>“You’re fightin’ a losin’ battle here,” Jamie husked, out of breath as she hauled herself back on top of Dani, straddling her back. She let out a little huff of laughter. “But by all means, keep wigglin’. Worse ways to spend my night.”</p><p>Dani saw red. Putting all her weight on her left elbow she twisted once more, her vision blurry with anger and not a single thought in her mind save for breaking free. Before she knew what she was doing her right arm was sweeping up in a wide arc, hard and fast, and the last thing she registered was Jamie’s look of shock as the back of her hand slammed into the side of Jamie’s face. </p><p>It had hurt, Dani knew it had, but Jamie recovered instantly, pinning Dani’s arms under her knees and glaring down, her nostrils flaring as she leaned down close. </p><p>“You,” Jamie growled, dark and low, “are not worth all this fuckin’ trouble.”</p><p>“Then let. Me. Go.” Dani’s teeth were clenched to the point of pain.</p><p>“With fuckin’ pleasure,” Jamie ground out, “in one week when your husband—“</p><p>Dani surged up, cutting Jamie off with her mouth, swallowing the rest of her words. It wasn’t heated or passionate, it was just a mashing of Dani’s lips in the general direction of Jamie’s mouth, and when the pain from Jamie’s knees on her arms became too much Dani fell back, staring up at Jamie in shock.</p><p><em>Shit. Oh, shit.</em> She’d kissed her. Dani had kissed her. She’d reared up, lips first, and there was no hiding from it. This hadn’t been a heated touch in the shadows, easy to write off as the consequence of whiskey or a Round Dance or two people hungry and bored. </p><p>Jamie was looking at her, surprise and anger fading into something else. She shifted her knees off of Dani’s arms, smoothed her hands over Dani’s biceps instead, holding her there. But gently. A red splotch was blooming on her cheekbone where Dani had hit her. Dani pulled her arm free again and Jamie let it happen, narrowing her eyes as Dani reached up to touch the red mark. Jamie’s cheek was warm beneath her fingers. </p><p>“I’m sorry—“ Dani whispered, and suddenly Jamie’s hand was around her wrist, slamming her hand to the ground above her head. </p><p>They were eye to eye, only a handful of inches between them as they breathed, watching each other. There was a coil of desire within Dani that she’d been pressing down on for as long as she could remember. But her grip was slipping. <br/><br/></p><p>   And yet—<em>murder. </em>Jamie had said she’d explain, but what explanation could ever justify such a thing? Murder and the kidnapping of two innocents, the paper had said. Jamie was bad. <em>You know I’m not</em>. But did she? Did Dani know that?</p><p>Jamie wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore, she was staring at her mouth. Then Dani was staring at hers. And it was impossible to say who moved first, but it was almost as if there were an invisible pull—like the force of the vortex they’d been fighting against was finally too much and the only sensible thing left to do was succumb. Give in to its gravity.</p><p>   Meet in the middle.</p><p>   It started off soft. Slow. Lips tentatively pressing against lips, teasing and gentle. But even just the gentle rub of Jamie’s lips had Dani’s hands curling into fists, sparks igniting along her nerves. </p><p>Jamie pulled back to look at her and Dani’s breath caught. The way she was looking at her. With soft eyes and a little smile that spoke of delight. She had tiny lines when she smiled, the slightest bit of crinkling by her eyes and there was no rational explanation for the elation Dani felt at the discovery. Except that maybe, just maybe, this was the real Jamie. That it was the real Jamie who leaned back in with her smirk, pressing her lips back to Dani’s, taking her hands from Dani’s arms and moving to slide them behind her head, cradling her head so it wasn’t being pressed against the cold ground. </p><p>Dani reached up, fingers grasping onto the folds of Jamie’s canvas jacket, using it to pull Jamie closer. She let her tongue slip out on a tiny sigh, touching it to Jamie’s lip, and Jamie’s fingers flexed in her hair, a soft growl coming from her throat as she slotted their mouths together, like she’d just been waiting for permission to slide her tongue against Dani’s.</p><p><em>God.</em> Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing. The way Jamie’s tongue twirled around her own, the way she’d pull away to nip Dani’s lip before diving back down for more. It had all began with a semblance of finesse but it was quickly dissolving into pure need, messy and raw. </p><p>   Dani was suddenly all too aware that it didn’t matter anymore. For the moment, at least, she didn’t care if Jamie was bad. She didn’t even care. She needed this. </p><p>Jamie made a noise, halfway between a gasp and a moan as she pushed down into Dani’s pelvis. Dani realized she was rolling her own hips into the air in vain, the ache between her legs growing wilder.</p><p>Dani heard herself whimper and Jamie pressed herself even closer, kissing Dani as if she was determined to seek out the source of that sound with her tongue. Dani met every deep sweep of Jamie’s tongue with a slick slide of her own, and soon they were barely kissing, their mouths just open and fused as they desperately tried to consume one another. To swallow each other whole.</p><p>Without warning Jamie pulled back, tightening her fist in Dani’s hair to hold her in place.</p><p>“Fuck.” Her eyes were black, her lips were red and shining. She was panting.</p><p>Dani was panting too.</p><p>A coyote howled nearby and Jamie’s eyes flicked in the direction of the sound. “We should—”</p><p>Dani nodded.</p><p>“Will you?” Jamie’s forehead furrowed. “Will you come back with me?”</p><p>Another nod. In that moment Dani would’ve followed her to the end of the earth if it meant one more kiss.</p><p>Jamie helped her up. Picked up her new hat, put it back on her head with a smile. She tied a rope to Totem’s bridle, tied the other end to Moon’s saddle.</p><p>Dani was standing there, her hands over her cheeks. Shocked, thrilled, wanting and warm. Jamie turned back around and stared at Dani for a moment, a ridiculous grin cracking across her face before she meandered toward her, full of bravado.</p><p>Dani lowered her hands as Jamie stepped into her space. Dani smiled at her.</p><p>Jamie’s lips twitched. “Shut up.”</p><p>“I didn’t say—”</p><p>Jamie kissed her again, long and deep. Cradling her jaw, rubbing her tongue against Dani’s over and over before suddenly pulling back, shaking her head, her eyes dark. “I can’t stop,” she said. “For days now, I can’t stop. Can’t stop lookin’ at you, thinkin’ about you, fuckin’ dreamin’ about you, can’t close my eyes without seein’ you. Christ, I’m fuckin’ drownin’ in you and I can’t—”</p><p>Dani surged against her because she couldn’t not be kissing her. She grabbed her around the back of the neck and slipped her tongue back into Jamie’s mouth.</p><p>Jamie’s hands were everywhere. Sliding down to grasp Dani’s hips, pulling them into herself on a groan. Sliding up Dani’s sides, curling around her shoulders, sliding back down, ghosting over her backside, tentative like she wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were yet. Dani rolled her hips into Jamie, trying to convey that there were no rules except for <em>tongues </em>and <em>need </em>and <em>fuck please more</em>, and Jamie growled, raking her fingers up Dani’s back and suddenly pleasure was replaced with a stab of white-hot pain.</p><p>Dani pulled away, crying out.</p><p>“What?” Jamie was panting again, shaking her head in confusion.</p><p>“My—” Dani tried to peer over her shoulder at her own back, which only succeeded in eliciting another stab of pain. “My back, the—the lasso. And rocks. And. Everything.”</p><p>The look on Jamie’s face when she realized what Dani was saying could’ve broken Dani in two—she looked utterly horrified and ashamed and a moment later she was untucking Dani’s shirt, lifting it up to peer at the damage.</p><p>“Christ, I didn’t—” She sounded enraged with herself.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Dani said, “it’s fine—”</p><p>“Your back is fuckin’ raw, it’s—” She stepped back around to face Dani. “Let me take you back, clean you up, yeah? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p><p>Dani smiled at her. “Rather the lasso than the canyon.”</p><p>A little laugh burst from Jamie. “Reckon so.”</p><p> </p><p>They rode back in silence, but Dani’s mind was racing. <em>What now. What next.</em> It was a mantra, looping in her head over and over. The answer, she learned when they arrived back at the saloon, was simple.</p><p>Jamie brought her upstairs to her own room, told her to take off her shirt, looking away as Dani unbuttoned it and clutched it to herself to reveal only her back.</p><p>“Might sting,” Jamie whispered, pouring something harsh smelling onto a rag and dabbing it across Dani’s skin.</p><p>Dani hissed. It did sting. But then it was cool, cold, as if—she <em>was</em>, Dani realized. Jamie was blowing on the fresh cuts, taking the sting away. Then she was smearing a salve on, working with more care and tenderness than Dani would’ve imagined her capable of.</p><p>“Have to do it again in the mornin’,” she said, stepping back and wiping her fingers on the rag.</p><p>“Thank you,” Dani whispered. And then it was awkward, because Dani didn’t quite want the night to end and yet she was standing there, half-naked with a back of cuts and burns that was becoming increasingly painful as time wore on.</p><p>“You could stay here,” Jamie whispered, not meeting her eyes. “For the night.”</p><p>“What?” Dani twisted around to look at her—she’d turned away to button up her shirt. She hissed again at the sharp pain that came from moving in such a way.</p><p>“You’re hurt,” Jamie shrugged. “Should keep an eye on you.”</p><p>“It’s fine, it’s just a—” Dani thought about it. “Okay.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?”</p><p>Dani nodded. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll stay.”</p><p> </p><p>Jamie helped her settle into bed, chest down—leaving her back open to the air. Jamie opened a window.</p><p>“For the breeze,” she’d explained. “Will help.” She’d nodded at her back. And then, to Dani’s dismay, Jamie had settled down into the chair in the corner.</p><p>“Won’t you be uncomfortable?” Dani had asked.</p><p>“Was told recently that I sleep on rocks like a snake,” Jamie said, smiling without opening her eyes. “Bit rude, but not wrong. The chair’s a luxury. Go to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>The breeze from the window played across her back, taking a good deal of the pain with every little gust. Dani’s head was turned on the pillow, watching Jamie who was stretched out in the chair. <em>Come here,</em> she wanted to whisper. <em>Please.</em></p><p>The clouds shifted and the moon slipped out, drenching Jamie in dusty light. Her eyes were closed, her head leaning against her fist, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair. She was beautiful. Dani had known it from that first night, but this—getting to look, truly <em>look</em>—it was staggering. The dark fan of her lashes, the curve of her nose. Her mouth. <em>God. Her mouth.</em> A flare of electricity pulsed between Dani’s legs. <em>Christ, I’m fuckin’ drownin’ in you. </em>Dani wanted that, whatever it meant, she wanted it. Kissing Jamie had only served to make her crave more. A curl slipped from Jamie’s forehead down over an eye. Dani’s fingers twitched with the desire to get up and go push it back. To lean down and kiss her again. To straddle her on that chair and move against her until they were mindless, her ruined back be damned. <em>God. </em>She was beautiful and Dani wanted her.</p><p><em>Like Viola,</em> that unwelcome voice in Dani’s head suddenly suggested. <em>No, </em>Dani thought, <em>not like that.</em> It wasn’t like that at all. It was different. <em>Yes, </em>the voice hissed, <em>because Viola was sweet and shy, and Jamie is a murderer. </em></p><p><em>But I want her</em>, Dani answered. <em>I want her. </em>And there wasn’t a solitary thing the little voice could say to that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CMr2_YzM1x-/?igshid=1adrij7w8cpmw">So this happened and it’s amazing.</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>   M:</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Been spending every morning on the water tower, and there’s this moment when the sun is coming up over the horizon. This solitary, fragmented moment when enough sun’s come up to blast the sky with color and thaw the chill from the long night. Nights are freezing out here, days are fucking intolerable, but there’s this overlap that happens when just enough sun’s appeared, just enough night still lingering. Night and day mix together, sun and moon, and for a minute—two, maybe—it’s bloody perfect. Wish I could bottle the dawn, stopper it and keep it in a vial round my neck, there to swallow down when the days go sideways and the panic is scratching at the inside of my skull. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I fucked up, mate. The girl is—well. Tempting, for one. Bored and curious, for another, which is just bloody unfair considering I can’t do anything with it. Anything more, rather. And I won’t, honestly I won’t. Stepping back. Shaking every thought of her from my head. Just. It’s been a while, is all. Too bloody long if I’m being honest. Near impossible to get a moment to myself round here, less I’m up here scouting the sunrise. Be a bloody miracle if I managed to scrounge up a night off, but where the fuck am I supposed to find someone warm and willing in the middle of the fucking desert? Drifter’s Market, I suppose, but even then the gremlins would carry on about me going off without them and I’d spend the entire time worrying myself sick, kicking myself for leaving them alone in the first place. Point is, been too bloody long and I’m nearly out of my mind with it. The way she looks at me sometimes. Should be bloody knighted for the sheer battle of willpower I’ve waged, keeping her honor intact and the like. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Actually. The whole thing’s got me thinking about Charlotte. Isn’t the same, I know it isn’t the same. Still. There’s a ring of it, like. A hum of something familiar in the way this girl wasn’t given a choice either. In the way I took her, the way she doesn’t hate me for it. She pretends to, maybe even wants to. She bloody well should, but she doesn’t. And when she looks at me the way she does sometimes with those fucking eyes, there’s a moment of clarity that shines through the haze of want clouding my vision—a moment like that moment when the morning overlaps the night. A singular moment when I see it all so clearly—if I touch her, I’m no better than he is. And if there’s any fucking thing stronger than the desire to take her, to make her mine even just for a few days, well. That’s it—the notion that it would make us the same, he and I. And I will never be like him. </strong>
</p><p> <strong>-J</strong></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That morning there’d been a moment, one singular blessed moment, when Dani had first woken up and found herself in Jamie’s bed, heard her rustling around in the bureau nearby and decided with something akin to effervescent bravery that this was it—the moment in which she’d sit up, turn around and tell Jamie that she wanted her. Immediately. Torn back and thin walls be damned.</p><p>And so it was something of a shock, when Dani did sit up and turn around to do just that, finding that it wasn’t Jamie standing there but Peter, wearing a bonnet and rummaging through a drawer as if digging for buried treasure.</p><p>“Peter?”</p><p>He’d spun, looking guilty with his little smile, slowly leaning back against the open drawer, sliding it shut as if Dani hadn’t already caught him doing—whatever it was he’d been doing. As if shirtsleeves and trouser legs weren’t sticking out haphazard and messy, preventing the drawer from fully closing.</p><p>Peter had pulled Silver from where the stuffed toy had been holstered in his belt, sucking on the horse’s ear as he blushed.</p><p>Dani had smiled. “Good morning, Peter.”</p><p>“Morning. Good morning.” He’d nodded.</p><p>“Is Jamie…?” Dani started, noting the moment Peter’s eyes slid to the floor. She’d begun to find a pattern with his speech tendencies—reflexive phrases like <em>hello </em>and <em>good morning </em>would pull a kneejerk response from him, but open-ended questions seemed to confound him. Instead of answering he would shrink away, blink at the floor, nibble on his shirt. But he’d done just fine pointing at simple sketches on the classroom counter to demonstrate his understanding, and Dani had begun finding ways to use it in their day to day. <em>What do you want for dinner Peter? </em>became <em>Do you want sausage, </em>and Dani would hold up her left fist,<em> or beans? </em>She’d hold up her right. And then Peter would point at a fist, choosing. It was a small discovery but Dani felt like there was something there. Something to build upon.</p><p>She was trying to figure out how to break down the question <em>where is Jamie and has she mentioned anything about last night’s truly spectacular kissing</em> into an either-or format for Peter when Flora flounced in from the hallway.</p><p>“Peter, did you—oh, Mrs. O’Mara, you’re up!” Flora grinned. “We’ve been instructed to run you a bath, and afterward I’ll tend to your cuts, Jamie left a salve—”</p><p>Something deflated in Dani. “She isn’t…going to do it herself?”</p><p>“It’s just some scrapes, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora had scolded, “and besides, I have a wealth of knowledge when it comes to tending the impaired. Miles broke his finger last year and I set it back all myself, one lovely little snap,” she’d demonstrated, pushing on her own finger, “and he was all sorted. Well, not <em>all </em>sorted, there was quite a bit of swelling, his entire hand turned a perfectly splendid shade of violet and Jamie was quite cross with me, which I thought was spectacularly unfair. But in the end I fixed it. Or, rather, I didn’t make things worse, I don’t think.” She beamed, as if she’d made her point perfectly. “Come along, you’ll be convalesced in no time, quicker than the lizard catches the fly.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dani had bathed, washed her hair and winced at the unpleasant sensation of bathwater water lapping at her torn back. But more unpleasant than the wounds was the sinking feeling that Jamie had fled. Backed off. <em>Coward. </em>Dani wanted to say it to her face. If she was brave enough to kiss a murderer beneath the desert moon while the coyotes howled all around them, the least the murderer could do was summon the courage to show their face in the harsh morning light.</p><p>She was brooding, Dani could feel it on her face, she knew the thunderclouds brimming within were all too obvious, but she couldn’t help it. She was hurt. <em>No</em>—not hurt. Angry. Furious.</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara!” Flora had sounded horrified when Dani wrapped herself in a towel and let the tiny nursemaid into the bathroom to see to the cuts. “However did this happen?”</p><p>Dani sighed, sinking down into a wooden chair to give Flora access. “Sleepwalking. I—” she hissed as Flora pressed a careful little hand to her shoulder, “I have a sleepwalking problem. I’m, um. Working on it.” She cringed at the wall.  </p><p>“The Kuttuhsippeh have a brew for that, they helped Peter. He used to sleepwalk,” Flora had said jovially. “It was quite a problem, actually. One night he went missing and we were all beside ourselves with worry, but then morning arrived and he came strutting back up the street, happy as a daisy, wearing a gentleman’s hat and leading a small goat at the end of a rope.”</p><p>“A goat?”</p><p>“It was a shock for us all, Mrs. O’Mara,” she’d started smoothing the salve over Dani’s cuts, “we never did find out where he’d been, but we sold the goat at the Drifter’s Market and bought whiskey and cakes and had a perfectly lovely feast.” Suddenly Flora gasped. “Why, you poor thing, this is perfectly horrible—”</p><p>“What’s wrong? What is it?” Dani had strained to peer over her shoulder but the pain was too great.</p><p>“There’s—there’s quite a bit of dirt still in your cuts—prickles from sort of plant too, and—” she touched a particular spot on Dani’s back and Dani flew out of the chair, away from her touch, away from the sudden blinding pain. Flora shook her head apologetically. “Rocks, Mrs. O’Mara. You have rocks embedded in your wounds. We really should fix you that brew tonight, it seems you’re really quite reckless when you sleep.”</p><p>Rocks. No wonder the pain was searing. Jamie had cleaned the wounds but the light from the gas lamp had been minimal. And there’d been…other distractions.</p><p>“Not to fret,” Flora had said, “sit back down and I’ll see to it.” She pulled her little dagger from its sheath. “It’s rather fortunate really, I just had my knife sharpened at the Drifter’s Market last month so I doubt you’ll feel a thing—”</p><p>“Oh—I don’t—” Dani was shaking her head frantically. “I think I’ll let Jamie…help with any necessary…surgical endeavors…”<br/>Flora had looked vaguely disappointed. “But she’s preoccupied in the caves, it could be hours, an entire day even before she comes out—”</p><p>“I’ll wait,” Dani said, kind and firm when Flora took another step toward her with the dagger.</p><p>Flora had sighed, dejected. “If you’re certain.”</p><p>Back in her own room Peter had laid out a fresh pair of black trousers and a tan linen shirt. Dani had changed, wincing as the shirt’s fabric rubbed against her injuries and trying with all her might not to picture Jamie, sequestered away in her caves, catching bats with her teeth or whatever the devil she did down there.</p><p> </p><p>That had been her morning.</p><p>Now, she was in the classroom, scowling down at the coaldust fingerprints on her trousers, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at Miles, who’d been intolerable all day. Pulling Flora’s braid every time he passed by her chair. Teasing her when she misspelled the word <em>frustrate.</em></p><p>“I like <em>my </em>way better,” she’d shouted at him, “fusstrate makes more sense because people tend to cause a fuss when they’re vexed.”</p><p>She wasn’t wrong, Dani mused. She herself was feeling rather vexed, and altogether itching to cause a fuss.</p><p>As if on cue, suddenly there was a wrapping of knuckles against the open door.</p><p>“Afternoon all,” Jamie said, leaning into the room with one arm braced against the doorframe. And the way her eyes were darting everywhere but to Dani, the way her forehead was worried, the way there were dark crescents under her eyes…she was pulling back after all. Distant and moody. Dani had been right and the confirmation filled her with a heaviness. Had her temper flaring. <em>Who did she think she was?</em></p><p>“Be in the caves til late tonight,” Jamie was saying, “think you’ll be alright fendin’ for yourselves for dinner?” She directed the question at the children, patently ignoring Dani.</p><p>“We’ll manage,” Flora said, more interested in her journal than in Jamie.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes flicked around the room once more before she nodded and undulated her knuckles against the doorframe one last time, then turned to head back the way she came.</p><p>“Jamie!” It was Flora who called out for her, her little face lighting up like she’d just then remembered something important.</p><p>Jamie reappeared in the doorframe, looking vaguely impatient. Dani attempted indifference, doing her best to focus on Miles’ journal without giving Jamie so much as a sidelong glance.</p><p>“I did as you said,” Flora was telling her, “tending to Mrs. O’Mara, but it seems perhaps she spent a good part of the night on her back, rolling around on the desert floor while she was sleepwalking.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes flicked to Dani’s and Dani looked back down at Miles’ writing.</p><p>“She has rocks and bits of other perfectly dreadful muck stuck into her and she absolutely refused to let me clean her cuts. She was really quite difficult about it,” Flora sent Dani a stern look, “I’m sorry Mrs. O’Mara but you <em>were</em>.”</p><p>“Give it a couple days,” Jamie said, turning to leave again.</p><p>“But, Jamie,” Flora said, “we simply can’t allow her to go untended—”</p><p>“We won’t,” Jamie said with a shrug. “We’ll wait til the infection gets bad enough and then she’ll be beggin’ us to—”</p><p>“Can I speak with you?” Dani asked suddenly, and <em>damnit </em>she’d planned for her pride to hold out longer than half a day. Nothing for it now though. “Alone?”</p><p>Jamie raised a shoulder. “Somethin’ you have to say you may as well say it—“</p><p>“Alright I will. I’m finding myself a bit… perturbed, by your blatantly miserable disposition as if my injury has inconvenienced you somehow, and I’m sure you’ll understand when I say it’s all rather confusing because I have a distinct memory of you being an active participant in the <em>sleepwalking </em>activities that led to my injury in the first place. First with the lasso and then with the straddling and then with the ki—”</p><p>“Outside,” Jamie huffed, and then she was out the door faster than blinking, waiting in the street with crossed arms and a look of fury on her face.</p><p>Dani marched after her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs with Jamie standing several feet away, nibbling on her thumbnail and frowning at the ground. Suddenly she gestured at Dani. “Really should let Flora clean your back, she’s got a careful hand, you don’t need to—”</p><p>“<em>Enough</em> about my goddamn back.”</p><p>The shocked look on Jamie’s face was, at the very least, slightly satisfying.</p><p>“What’s the plan here?” Dani asked.</p><p>“Plan?”</p><p>“The plan. Pretend nothing happened last night? Avoid me until the week is up and Edmund comes for me?”</p><p>Jamie’s arms were folded across her white shirt, holding herself in a vice grip like she was afraid she might splinter into pieces. She was clearly thinking through her next words carefully, her brows coming together and her lips working their way up to a word.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she finally said, and Dani wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but it hadn’t been that.</p><p>“You’re sorry.”</p><p>“For um. For,” she actually winced, “for kissin’ you.”</p><p>“<em>I </em>kissed <em>you.</em>”</p><p>An uncomfortable shrug. “Been a confusin’ time for you, I reckon—”</p><p>“I assure you I acted with purpose and clarity.”</p><p>Jamie looked like she was about to say something more, but instead she promptly shut her mouth and toed the ground with her boot. Then, in a low voice, she said, “We can’t.” Her eyes flicked up to Dani’s and then back down. “Another lifetime, maybe.”</p><p>“Fuck you.” The words flew out of her mouth rather unexpectedly and Jamie was looking at her now with something akin to astonishment. “Sorry—” Dani shook her head and ran her hands over her face. She hadn’t mean to be so aggressive, and yet— “No, you know what? I’m not sorry. I meant it. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”</p><p>Jamie was looking at her like she’d lost her mind.</p><p>“My entire life I’ve had people telling me what I can and cannot do. How to talk, how to dress, how to act, how to feel. And I can take it from the small-minded people who’ve built their entire existence around an ancient book of rules, honestly I even feel sorry for them—it takes a lot of fear to make an enemy of otherness, I know that now. But what I can’t take,” Dani paused, suddenly aware of the quiet classroom behind her. She lowered her voice. “What I refuse to take is a lecture from <em>you</em> about what I can and cannot do. Not when it’s profoundly evident that you want it just as much as I do.”</p><p>Dani waited, but Jamie just stared at the ground.</p><p>Finally, Dani looked away, shaking her head before turning to head back inside.</p><p>“Wait—” Jamie’s voice was soft.</p><p>Dani turned back, and for a split second her heart fluttered thinking maybe, just maybe, she’d changed Jamie’s mind. But then,</p><p>“Your back,” Jamie said, her brow knit with concern, “you’re bleedin’ through the shirt—”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Ridiculous, the things her pride made her say. Her back was on fire. Positively excruciating. But she headed back into the classroom without another backwards glance.</p><p>Jamie followed. “You’re not <em>fine</em>, you can’t walk round with an open wound for fuck’s sake—"</p><p>“I tried to tell her,” Flora said, not looking up from her journal. “It’s truly a horror back there.”</p><p>“Come on,” Jamie said, grabbing for Dani’s wrist.</p><p>Dani pulled back, out of her reach. “I said I was fine.” She walked over to Peter, seated at his counter and fully engrossed in Paradise Lost. He’d very nearly read the entire thing—he’d need another book soon.</p><p>“Really not the time for pride,” Jamie was saying, following her over to the counter. “Let it sit like that and it’ll get infected.”</p><p>Dani ignored her.</p><p>“You hearin’ me?” Jamie’s voice was getting louder. “You could <em>die</em>—”</p><p>“Fantastic,” Dani whirled around to face her, “tell me, is there a way to expedite the process?”</p><p>Jamie lunged for her wrist again, this time before Dani could pull away. “School’s out for the day,” she said, dragging Dani toward the door, “go play with your revolvers out back.”</p><p>The children let out a cheer as Jamie dragged her out the door and down the stairs. They were halfway up the street when Dani recovered from the surprise and started resisting. Jamie just tightened her grip and continued pulling her along.</p><p>“You’re hurting me—”</p><p>“So stop strugglin’.”</p><p>“You’re going to break my arm,” Dani growled, pushing at Jamie.</p><p>“You’re the one tuggin’ on it.”</p><p>“Where are you taking me?” They were headed toward the stable and away from the saloon.</p><p>“Askin’ a lot of questions.”</p><p>“You can’t force me like this, you can’t—"</p><p>Jamie stopped but didn’t let go of her wrist. “You ever see someone die of infection? It’s not quick. Not easy. And out here with the heat?” She forced a frown and shook her head. “Days it would take. Two, three maybe, for the fever to take your mind, and by then it would be a fuckin’ blessin’ because the infection would be in your blood and the flies would be swarmin’ on the dead flesh, layin’ their—"</p><p>“No—stop talking. That’s—that’s entirely disgusting.”</p><p>“Haven’t even gotten to the bit about the smell—”</p><p>“Please stop.”</p><p>“Gonna continue to be impossible or you gonna let me help you?”</p><p>Dani couldn’t stop a sneer. “So invested in my health.”</p><p>“Financially invested.”</p><p>That hurt more than it should have. Dani yanked her arm away but Jamie held tight.</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>A thoughtful nod. “I’ll try to survive the heartbreak,” Jamie muttered, resuming her march up the dirt road, dragging Dani along behind her.</p><p>Dani glared at the back of her head the entire time. She’d stopped fighting—her pride had a limit and fly larvae was it—but she refused to make it easy, keeping her pace nice and painfully slow lest Jamie begin to think she’s surrendered.</p><p>She froze when she realized where Jamie was taking her. “What’s—why are we here? What’s down there?” She peered past Jamie into the darkness of the cave’s mouth.</p><p>“Do you always ask this many questions? Back in Iowa was it all why this, why that?”</p><p>“Constantly.”</p><p>There was the smallest curl at the edge of Jamie’s lips, that little flash of amusement, the same one Dani had pulled from her that very first night.</p><p>“Can’t imagine that went over well with the indoctrination brigade,” Jamie said.</p><p>“They were thrilled to be rid of me.”</p><p>“Hardly blame them.” She said it with a smirk and Dani was finding it hard to stay mad. Jamie sighed. “I have things down there—” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Medicine and the like. Easier to just fix you up down there.”</p><p>Dani eyed the cave suspiciously. It was pitch black.</p><p>Jamie squinted at her. “You’ve got serious trust issues, anyone ever tell you?”</p><p>Dani was still looking into the cave. “You used children to lure me off a train, I think you’ve earned my mistrust.” Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and she could see a long hallway leading deep into the ground.</p><p>“Awfully stuck on the whole kidnappin’ thing.”</p><p>“It made an impression.”</p><p>But Dani let herself be led into the caves anyway, curiosity and a baffling trust in this madwoman somehow getting the best of her sound judgement.</p><p>The temperature fell the farther into the caves they walked, and Dani had to admit it was a welcomed reprieve from the heat. It was nearly impossible to see ahead but Jamie seemed to know the way and Dani followed blindly, nearly running into her when she stopped suddenly, procuring a lantern from a ledge carved into the cave wall. She struck a match against a piece of rock and there was a sudden sizzle and hiss as the flame flared to life. Once the lantern was lit Dani realized they were standing beside a doorway of sorts, an opening carved into the side of the cave leading off of the main shaft. Jamie held the lantern out ahead as she passed through the doorway and Dani followed, shocked when she saw what awaited them.</p><p>“Who built this?” It was a stairway, carved and smooth and winding downward into the earth. “Was it you?”</p><p>Jamie shook her head. “Hardly the first to use these caves,” she said, holding the lantern up to the wall. “See these? Ancient, I reckon.”</p><p>They were drawings, faint and rudimentary. Etchings of stick figure men and women with spears, bringing down a buffalo. There were symbols and shapes too—the sun and the moon and what might’ve been a cresting wave.</p><p>“All this was here long before us,” Jamie said, continuing downward, “it’ll be here long after we’re gone.”</p><p>Eventually the stairs leveled out. The air was cool, almost cold, and Dani could hear water dripping, the sound of it amplified and strange. The cave branched off in two directions and Jamie led them to the right, up a short incline. There was an even smaller opening at the top of the little slope and they had to duck to get through. Dani straightened and looked around, an awestruck smile sneaking across her face. <em>Flowers. </em>And plants—maybe a hundred of them, on every ledge of the little antechamber. There was a long opening, a shaft in the cave’s ceiling that allowed the sunlight to come through, at least in part, and it illuminated the flowering ledges, the greenery bursting from every corner. It was like a jungle, a rainforest in the middle of the desert.</p><p>“Jamie—” Dani spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.</p><p>“Accordin’ to Native legend, long time ago, hundreds of thousands of years, like, this entire desert was a marsh.” Jamie set down the lantern and leaned back against the only open spot of wall, her arms crossed as she watched Dani take it all in. “Land was perfect for growin’ things. Up there,” she squinted an eye, peering up at the blinking daylight a hundred feet above, “the ground’s been dryin’ for centuries. Turnin’ to sand, useless shite. But down here there’s a bit of the old left. Nutrients in the dirt and the like. Can find it if you know what you’re lookin’ for.” She touched a nearby leaf with her finger. “Give a thing what it needs, tend to it, and you start to find that things can still blossom, even in the middle of the fuckin’ desert.</p><p>Dani shook her head. “Amazing.” She glanced at Jamie. “And the plants? That’s how you helped the chiefess’ son?”</p><p>Jamie nodded. “Gardened a bit back in England. Took a shine to it. Bloody useful, turns out. For example,” she pushed off the wall and plucked several leaves from a nearby plant, “<em>symphytum officinale.</em> Also known as knitbone, because it can literally knit bones back together. Skin too, which is why we’re takin’ some. Hand me that basket?” She pointed behind Dani to where a woven basket hung from a nail. Together they began collecting this and that.</p><p>“<em>Achillea</em>,” Jamie said, stopping to pluck a plant with small white flowers, “named as such for Achilles. Legend has it he used the herb to treat his wounded soldiers. And Aloe,” she snapped a stiff pointy stem from an odd looking plant, “essential for soothin’ things over after I—” She sent Dani an apologetic look.</p><p>Dani eyed her. “After you what?”</p><p>“Come on,” Jamie took the lantern and ducked back through the doorway.</p><p>“After you <em>what</em>?” Dani followed her.</p><p>“Can’t leave all that shite in your cuts, have to clean them out.”</p><p>“And it will hurt…quite a lot?”</p><p>Jamie glanced back with a quick jut of her jaw and a thoughtful shake of her head. “Reckon you’ll pass out before things get too excruciatin’.”</p><p>Dani stared at her in a daze. “There’s nothing in your garden that can dull the pain?”</p><p>Jamie shook her head. “Have somethin’ else that’ll do the trick if you like.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Whiskey.”</p><p> </p><p>She followed Jamie back to where the cave had split off in two directions and this time Jamie led her off to the left. The sound of water grew louder as they walked, and suddenly the rock hallway opened up into what seemed to be an enormous chamber—it was rather hard to tell in the lantern’s limited glow.</p><p>“Stay there a minute,” Jamie said, taking the lantern and reaching up to turn the screw of a gas lamp that was hanging from a hook on the rock wall. She set off along the edge of the room, stopping every ten feet to light the next lamp—the entire room’s perimeter was fitted with them. Slowly a warm glow filled the chamber and the room came to life. It was a massive space, the ceiling so high overhead it was impossible to make it out—the lamps’ glow was limited to the lower half of the massive room.</p><p>Dani’s breath caught when she realized what was before her. There, in the middle of the chamber, taking up a good portion of the ground, was a pool, bright and blue even in the dim light. On the far side of the water there was a small waterfall, springing from some unseen source beyond the room, tumbling over a ledge in the cave’s wall down into the water below.</p><p>“It’s a hot spring,” Jamie said from across the water, where she was still making her way around the pool, lighting the lamps and stepping carefully along the narrow path that hugged the pool’s perimeter. “You know anythin’ about natural springs?” Her voice echoed in the great space.</p><p>Dani shook her head dumbly, still staring at the water. She’d never seen anything like it—vibrant and bright, like it was glowing somehow.</p><p>“Full of minerals and the like,” Jamie was saying, “and the Natives, the ones that used these caves, they used the spring for its healin’ properties. Figure you can do the same.”</p><p>“You—” Dani snapped out of her daze, watching as Jamie made her way back over the footpath, “you mean for me to—to soak in there? As in—?” <em>Naked?</em></p><p>Jamie shrugged like she didn’t see the issue. “Like a giant bathtub, yeah? First you soak, then we’ll worry about gettin’ the nasty bits out. Put some aloe on, wrap you up. Be ready for another escape attempt by mornin’.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and rolled up on the balls of her feet.</p><p>Dani glanced at the water, then back to Jamie. “So I should—” Her hands went to the buttons on her shirt.</p><p>“Oh—” Jamie’s little huff of a laugh sounded nervous, and it was a strange look on her. “Yeah, just—hang on, I’ll bring a towel for, uh, for after. Give you some privacy and you can just,” she tussled the curls on her forehead, “come find me when you’re done, I suppose.”</p><p>“Come find you?”</p><p>“See there?” Jamie pointed across the water where there was another ledge, a wider stretch of rock and beyond it a little doorway in the cave wall. “There’s a stairway through that openin’, have a little chamber up there. Should suit for fixin’ you up. I’ll fetch the towel.” She made her way around the water’s edge, disappearing through the doorway and up the stairs. There was a smaller opening, a window of sorts, in the rock wall that Dani hadn’t noticed before, only noticing it now because she could see Jamie entering the chamber to get the towel.</p><p>Jamie returned moments later and handed Dani a large woven cloth with an apologetic shrug. “Bit scratchy, but. Should do the trick.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Jamie had gone back to the upper chamber, Dani began to undress, keeping an eye on the window in the rock as she did. But it seemed Jamie really was giving her privacy, so she turned her attention to the vibrant water in front of her. Left her clothes in a pile on the bank and waded in, an arm held over her breasts because it felt so odd to be naked in the wide open room.</p><p>The water was warm, like tea that had been sitting out just long enough to cool the boil off. She stepped out carefully, the water getting gradually deeper until she could see that the floor dropped out just ahead, the water a deep cerulean in the pool’s center. It was remarkable, she realized as she took a breath and sunk in up to her neck, that unlike the bathwater that morning this water didn’t sting her back at all. <em>Healing properties</em>, Jamie had said.</p><p>She propelled herself across the deepest portion, heading to investigate the little waterfall on the far side of the spring. When she reached it she cupped her hands beneath it, let the clean water fill them and overflow before sticking her entire head under, her hair flattening against her skull under the warm downpour. She swam back to the center again, treading water there, sending the occasional glance up to the window to be sure Jamie wasn’t watching. Reassured once again that she was truly alone she lay back, floating weightlessly. There was a joy in it, a freedom in the water that she hadn’t felt in ages. Not since…well. Since the incident.</p><p>Cottonwood had a small watering hole. A little pond, fed by a small river back behind the church, adjacent to the Lloyd family’s farm. Children swam there every summer. Dani had grown up swimming there. And every Sunday afternoon from June through July her father held baptisms there, dunking starry-eyed parishioners into the cold waters as the rest of the town crowded around the banks, raising hands and muttering their hallelujahs.</p><p>Dani had been baptized there when she was born. Then again when she was eleven and her father told her the ceremony begged repeating because it was possible for a person to outgrow their salvation—that she needed to recommit herself to the Lord now that she was old enough to understand the weight of the decision. <em>Ironic</em>, she’d thought that day, because the decision was still being made for her.</p><p>At twenty she’d experienced a different kind of baptism in that little pond. A different sort of awakening. And if she were being honest of the three times she’d entered those waters for the purpose of rebirth it was truly only the last time that she’d emerged feeling different. </p><p>But she’d only been able to bask in that newness for a moment. One glorious moment of thrill and clarity and hope before a twig snapped and she looked up to see Viola’s daughter, Isabel, one hand resting on the trunk of the tree she’d been hiding behind, the other clamped over her mouth as she stared, hurt and confused. Then Isabel had turned and ran, Viola tearing off after her, and Dani had just stood there, frozen in place, listening dumbly to the sounds of the frantic chase—the crunch of dry leaves, the begging, the pleading, the cries of <em>Isabel, wait</em> and <em>it isn’t what you think </em>growing fainter and fainter until there was nothing but the ringing of empty silence and the feeling of something almost hers, snatched away. She never saw Viola again.</p><p>She was so tired of things being snatched away. Things that were almost hers, dangled in front of her only to be pulled just out of her reach.</p><p>“How’s it goin’?” Jamie’s voice was echoey and Dani clasped her arms over her breasts, whirling around to face the rock window, only to find that Jamie had called to her from deeper within the upper chamber, still allowing her privacy.</p><p>“Good? I think? Am I supposed to feel it working?”</p><p>A quiet beat passed. “Don’t actually know, to be honest.”</p><p>“Can you—can you come down here?” She was still covering her breasts, and she doubted Jamie could see anything below the water. Not well, anyway.</p><p>Jamie appeared in the doorway. “Alright?”</p><p>“Could keep me company, at least. What with my grave injury and all.”<br/>Jamie smirked. “Suppose it’s only chivalrous.”</p><p>She took off her boots and sat at the pool’s edge, dipping her feet in.</p><p>Dani swam to her, careful to not reveal herself as she watched Jamie closely.</p><p>Jamie caught her staring. “Somethin’ on your mind?”</p><p>“We’re not going to talk about it, are we?”</p><p>“’Bout what?” Jamie asked, like she didn’t already know exactly what. Like she wasn’t looking at her feet avoiding Dani’s eyes.</p><p>“You really need me to say?”</p><p>Jamie sighed. Flicked her toes in the water. Still wouldn’t meet Dani’s eyes. “No.”</p><p>“Okay, so—”</p><p>“What’s the point?” Jamie’s voice was sharp, scraping against Dani’s ears and puncturing the little ball of hope that had been bouncing around inside her ribcage.</p><p>“The—the point? Jamie, you—I mean, we—last night was—” <em>Confusing? Incredible? </em>Dani looked at her, silently begged her to look back, the sound of the waterfall’s rush filling the silence.  </p><p>“Look,” Jamie said, tense and uncomfortable like the conversation was causing her physical pain, “there’s no need to make it a big thing, yeah? Chalk it up to the thrill of the chase if you like, things just,” she made a vague gesture, “got away from us, like. It won’t happen again. Can’t happen again.”</p><p><em>The thrill of the chase.</em> Dani could’ve laughed. Or screamed. Grabbed Jamie’s leg and pulled her in and under. Held her there until she was ready to take Dani seriously. Until she was ready to stop denying what was right there in front of them, bold and bright and plain as the very day.</p><p>But instead of pushing it farther, instead of risking further rejection, Dani asked something else entirely.</p><p>“Who did you kill?”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes flickered up, blinked at something over Dani’s shoulder. Long seconds slid by. And then, incredibly, she answered. “A man.” For a split second her eyes darted to Dani’s before she looked down at the water. “A man who hurt somebody I loved.”</p><p><em>Okay. </em>Dani let go of the breath she’d been holding. <em>Okay. </em>That was…unexpected. She hadn’t thought Jamie would answer at all. And if she had, Dani imagined the answer would be something else entirely. Perhaps a robbery gone wrong, Dani had thought, or perhaps she’d even been hired to kill someone—a crime befitting an outlaw. <em>JT London. </em>An outlaw so notorious she’d been given a name.</p><p>And then there was that word. <em>Loved.</em> It wasn’t that she’d thought Jamie incapable of love, she just hadn’t even considered it. She was so careful, so guarded. So ornery. But love. She’d loved somebody. Enough to kill for them. And that was…maybe that was okay. But there was more she needed to know.</p><p>“What about the children?” Dani whispered.</p><p>A muscle worked in Jamie’s cheek. “I’ve done shite I shouldn’t’ve. Shining example,” she gestured at Dani, letting out a wry little laugh. “Plenty I’m not proud of. But only ever to survive, to get by, like. To protect those three,” she nodded toward the chamber’s entry. “I fuckin’ swear to you, I took Miles and Flora from a place worse than hell. You can’t imagine—” She shook her head like she couldn’t bring herself to explain. And then there was steel in her voice. “I didn’t kidnap them, I rescued them.” She took a breath, keeping her head down as she peered up at Dani. Hesitant. Maybe even anxious. “Do you—” another breath, “do you believe me?”</p><p>It was strange, because Dani did<em>.</em> So she nodded, slow and sure, and watched as Jamie’s shoulders relaxed.</p><p>“Right then.” Jamie nodded, one quick jerk. “Come on. Reckon you’ve been in there long enough.”</p><p>She held out the towel and looked away as Dani climbed out, clutching the towel around herself as her teeth chattered through a shiver.</p><p>She followed Jamie up the little stairway to the chamber above, pausing in the doorway. It was a small room with a low ceiling, the small opening in the front wall serving as a window to the brilliant pool below.</p><p>“Is this—” Dani looked around, rather perplexed by the space, “is it your bedroom?”</p><p>Someone had stuck a large hook in the center of the ceiling and several jam jars hung from it on various lengths of rope, all of them with a flickering candle inside, making the room dance with shadows. There was a small table on the far side of the room, an old wooden vanity with a cracked mirror attached. Taking up the majority of the space was a large bed, covered with a fluffy white blanket and resting in a rough wood frame, seemingly cobbled together from this and that in a similar manner to the sky bridges and the children’s stage.</p><p>Jamie was retrieving a small bowl from the vanity on the other side of the room and when she turned around she shrugged. “Kids run you ragged. It’s more like a hide out. Not that it gets much use.”</p><p>Dani was desperately trying not to entertain a sudden stream of thoughts about why Jamie might need a bed in her hideout. Her mind betrayed her, flashing back to the redheaded woman at the Drifter’s Market.</p><p>“Made a tincture from the plants,” Jamie was explaining, tipping the bowl to show her. “Sit there and we’ll get the cuts cleaned.” She pointed at the bed.</p><p>Dani sat at the edge, waiting. Jamie went back to the small table for the other two bottles there, one large and one small.</p><p>“Like I said,” she said, turning to face Dani, “this bit will hurt. Got whiskey and chloroform, pick your poison.” She held out the bottles, one in each hand.</p><p>Dani eyed the small bottle, identical to the one Flora had drugged her with that first night. “Not chloroform.”</p><p>“You sure? Be easier for you if you’re—”</p><p>Dani shook her head. “Not chloroform.”</p><p>“Whiskey it is, then.” She popped the stopper from the bottle and handed it to Dani. “Big swig, then another.”</p><p>Dani choked her way through the first swallow, barely managing to keep from gagging as the drink burned through her like liquid fire.</p><p>“Again,” Jamie instructed.</p><p>But Dani shook her head. “It’s rather like trading one torture for another,” she said, catching Jamie’s small smile. “I think I’ll manage. Just do it quickly.”</p><p>Jamie nodded, inhaling loudly through her nostrils as she pulled out her knife and positioned herself behind Dani.</p><p>“Skin’s already started to heal over the rubble,” she said, “hafta make a few more cuts in order to clean—”</p><p>“Don’t tell me,” Dani said, determined not to lose her nerve. “Just do it.”</p><p>“Right.” Another loud inhale. “Right.”</p><p>Dani barely felt the first slice of Jamie’s sharp blade, barely felt the second one either. But then Jamie pressed in to scrape the debris and Dani nearly bit her tongue in two, unable to stop herself from crying out.</p><p>“Shit, sorry, sorry,” Jamie was whispering, “gettin’ to the worst of it here. Nearly done, just—”</p><p>Jamie made a final cut into the most sensitive part of the wound, removing the bits of rock, and Dani had never known such violent pain, she felt as though she was being ripped wide open with bare hands. The air punched out of her lungs, her eyes welled up with tears.</p><p>Then, dazed from the pain, she watched Jamie’s reflection in the cracked mirror as Jamie took the whiskey bottle and poured a stream of the liquor onto her back.</p><p>At first the sensation was cold, soothing even. Then suddenly—</p><p>Dani <em>screamed. </em>Jamie might have poured kerosene onto her and lit a match instead, the way it felt like flames licking at her skin, burning it off, melting it like candlewax. She jumped up—it was involuntary, the need to escape the pain—and she barely managed to cling onto the towel around her middle. She turned around to glare at Jamie a moment later when the worst of it seemed behind her.</p><p>“Warned you it would hurt,” Jamie said softly, looking distinctly apologetic.</p><p>“You could’ve warned me harder.”</p><p>Jamie’s lips twitched. “Had to be done. Whiskey was for the infection.” She reached for the bowl. “Come back, this’ll take the sting out.”</p><p>The tincture did take the sting out, and then there was nothing left to do but bandage it with the cheesecloth Jamie had on hand.</p><p>“Figure we can wrap it round you, like,” Jamie said, tilting her head at Dani as she held up the cloth.</p><p>Dani nodded. Her head was feeling a little wobbly, the whiskey setting in just a tad too late.</p><p>“Here, stand here,” Jamie positioned her by the table, having her face the mirror. “You worry ‘bout defendin’ your honor,” she nodded to where Dani was clutching the wrapped towel in place, “and I’ll try to work round it.”</p><p>Dani lowered the fabric just enough to give Jamie room to work, and Jamie was careful with her touch, avoiding Dani’s skin as she wrapped the bandage, passing it from one hand to the other around Dani’s front, across her collarbone, under her armpit, over the wounds and then back again.</p><p>“Am I the first girl you’ve brought down here?” The thought had been plaguing her since the moment she first saw the bed.</p><p>Jamie didn’t look at her. “No,” she said.</p><p>It was honest, at least.</p><p>“First one I dragged though,” Jamie said with a quick smile. “First one I’ve done this with.” She indicated the bandages. She was quiet for a moment, and then she spoke again, more softly this time. “Been a long time,” she said. “Haven’t had anyone down here in a long time.”</p><p>That made Dani feel lighter, somehow.</p><p>Jamie’s forehead had a cautious crease in it and she was being so gentle, like Dani was made of spun glass, like she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her again. And maybe that was what spurred Dani to say what she said next. Then again, it might’ve been the whiskey. Or possibly a combination of everything, inevitable and needed.</p><p>“Did you mean what you said last night?” Dani asked, her voice as quiet as tip toeing. “That you can’t stop thinking about me? That you’re—that you’re drowning in me?”</p><p>Jamie didn’t look at her, she just kept bandaging. Wrapping the cloth around and around and around until it was done. Then she stepped back, stuffing her hands in her pockets the way she seemed to do when she was put on the spot, vulnerable and seen.</p><p>“I shouldn’t’ve said it.” She scrunched her shoulders like she’d done something wrong.</p><p>“Because it’s not true?”</p><p>“Because it’s—” Jamie shook her head, frustrated, “it’s not right, yeah? Sayin’ things like that to you. Not when—” She shook her head again.</p><p>“But did you mean it?”</p><p>And then Jamie was nodding, subtle at first and then definitively, making eye contact with Dani in the mirror. It sent something fluttering through Dani’s chest.</p><p>“Did you mean to kiss me?”</p><p>She hesitated. “You’re not mine to kiss—”</p><p>“Jamie. Did you mean to?”</p><p>Another nod. Another admission. Another step closer to facing this thing, whatever it was between them.</p><p>“Do you—” Dani swallowed, “do you <em>want </em>me?”</p><p>A moment slid by, crackling and heady. Then, “You have no fuckin’ idea.” There was a depth to Jamie’s voice as she said it, a rawness there that sent a throb of heat to Dani’s core.</p><p>Dani turned around to face her. “What if I want you too?” She took a step toward her. Then another. Then another. Stopped when she was standing right in front of her.</p><p>When Jamie looked up at her there was something behind her eyes—fear, maybe. Regret. And when she opened her mouth to speak all Dani could think about was how she couldn’t bear to hear what she was about to say. So instead she leaned in, holding the towel up with one hand and reaching out for Jamie’s face with the other, and she kissed her, a gentle press of her lips that Jamie immediately melted into, reaching up to cradle Dani’s jaw.</p><p>Jamie made a noise, a little whine, a little cry, and Dani pressed in harder, opened her mouth to flick her tongue against Jamie’s lip. Jamie’s tongue slid into her mouth, running along Dani’s teeth, the roof of her mouth, and it made no sense, Dani thought. It made no sense that tongues and teeth could make her entire body throb with a need so deep she wasn’t sure it could ever be truly sated.</p><p>Suddenly Jamie was pulling away. “We can’t,” she said, breathless and flushed. “We can’t.”</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” Dani’s heart was pounding.</p><p>“You’re not—” Jamie was shaking her head again, scowling at the floor. “It’s a thing for me, I can’t—you’re not here of your own accord, yeah? And I can’t—”</p><p>“Jamie—"</p><p>“I grew up in a brothel.” The words sprang from her like a guilty confession. “A whorehouse.”</p><p>Dani nodded after a moment, catching Jamie’s eye, trying to convey that she was there with her. That she was listening.</p><p>“The things you see in a place like that. Fuckin’ evil. Turns your stomach for a lifetime, the way a person can use somebody. Drain them dry. Toss them aside like rubbish. And I won’t do it, I won’t use you.” She looked away. “Fuckin’ shite of me to take you from that train to start with. Have plenty to atone for, far as you’re concerned. And I don’t know if you’re scared or maybe confused, everythin’ that’s happened to you. Could be you’re just lookin’ for a bit of human comfort. But you’re not here willingly,” she said, in a final sort of way, “and I won’t do it.”</p><p>“I told you I did something bad in Cottonwood?” Maybe it was the sudden change in topic that had Jamie’s head snapping up, or maybe it was Dani’s sharp tone. She had to get this out. She had to explain.</p><p>Jamie nodded. “Never said what.”</p><p>“I’m saying now,” Dani said. “I was twenty and a family moved to town, they had a young daughter who joined my class. That was how we first met, the girl’s mother and I.” A week ago the mere thought of reliving this particular memory made Dani nauseous. Now, it came to her like the eleventh-hour answer to a baffling question. The only way she could get Jamie to understand that maybe she hadn’t arrived willingly but now—<em>God, </em>she’d never been more willing in all her life. “It started as long walks in the evening. She was…she was interesting, I suppose.” <em>And beautiful. </em>“She was well read, which is a rarity in Cottonwood, and she was interested in ideas beyond morality and salvation, which is rarer still.”</p><p>Jamie’s face had shifted from openly curious to cautious, like she knew exactly where the story was going.</p><p>“The first time it became,” Dani looked down, forcing the word, “physical,” she glanced at Jamie, watching that tell-tale muscle flex in her cheek, “her daughter caught us. It wasn’t—” Dani searched for the words, “we kissed, we—we touched, but nothing—it was the first time either of us had pursued such a thing and then Isabel caught us and it—” she swallowed, “it was gone, the possibility of it was gone. And then she was gone, not long after. She’d been sick, I learned later, she’d been sick for many years and she was fragile and the stress of it…the shame of it, when the whole town found out…she died not five months later and I never got to say goodbye.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Jamie was watching her with palpable empathy, looking at her like she’d never looked at her before. Like she was seeing the deepest part of her clearly now, and recognizing something familiar there.</p><p>But Dani wasn’t done. “No one blamed Viola. She was married to a good man, she was quiet, demure. She didn’t ask constant questions. She wasn’t the preacher’s daughter. She was sick. Weak. A victim. They couldn’t blame her so instead they blamed me twice as ardently. I’d been falling short of expectations for some time. I’d been avoiding marriage proposals for four years, and I think Viola was just a confirmation of what had long been suspected. There was a trial, the—the church, actually, that’s how it works in Cottonwood. The council. And it was decided that I’d be married to one of the church’s young councilmen. Immediately. They didn’t even give me time to—” She looked away. The anger had faded long ago but it was still there waiting, just below the surface, ready to flare when she thought back on it all.  “We were married three weeks later, and our first night together Edmund told me that I needed to—to <em>be </em>with him—so I could know that God’s way was better than my <em>unnatural </em>desires. I think he believed he was doing me a favor.”</p><p>Jamie shook her head, a noise in the back of her throat sounding a bit like disgust. But then she was glancing up. “Was it?” Her voice was low. “Was God’s way better?”</p><p>Dani couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping. “I hope not. I’ve nothing to compare it to, but…God, I hope that’s not it.”</p><p>“It’s not unnatural, you know,” Jamie said. “Just uncommon. Mostly because of twats like your husband puttin’ words in God’s mouth.”</p><p>Dani considered that. “Can I tell you something?” Dani squinted at her. “Something else?”</p><p>“Course.”</p><p>“I don’t actually care what God wants. I don’t know if I even believe in God anymore.” Odd that such a fiercely guarded secret could be so easily confessed to this woman. Odder still that the admission sent a wide smile into Dani’s cheeks, relief flooding through the parts of her she’d been holding taut and tense for years and years. Forever, really. “Not their God, anyway.”</p><p>“Small minded people tend to do that,” Jamie said. “Tend to make big things smaller so they fit. Reckon whoever God is, he’s a hell of a lot bigger than Cottonwood, Iowa. Might not even be a he, come to think of it. And I reckon he, she, they—reckon they’ve got an entire universe keepin’ them busy. Probably don’t give a flyin’ fuck who you want to go to bed with. My opinion, anyway.” She ended it with a small shrug.</p><p>Dani considered it. Sighed. “I’m sick and tired of everyone making my decisions for me.”</p><p>“Understandable.”</p><p>“Is it?” Dani asked. “Because that’s all you’ve done since I met you—make my decisions for me. I want to choose something for myself. Without guilt and without question.”</p><p>“O-okay—” Jamie was beginning to look as though she suspected this was all leading somewhere. Like Dani was on some sort of mission and she was just along for the ride. Which was, in fact, exactly the case.</p><p>“I’m not confused and I’m not unwilling. I’ve wanted—I was <em>wanting </em>long before I met you. And I need to know what it’s like,” Dani said, “before I go back to him. Before my life marches on like an endless flat road, I need to know just once what it’s like to be with,” <em>you</em>, “with a—another—”</p><p>“Woman?”</p><p>Dani nodded and then, determined not to falter in her resolve, she lowered the towel. Slowly, surely. Down past her breasts, her waist. Letting it drop to the floor.</p><p>Jamie looked like she’d stopped breathing.</p><p><em>Good. </em>Dani’s confidence flared. “I need you to touch me and I need—I need for you to not stop this time, not—not until I—“</p><p>“Til you?” Jamie’s eyes were on Dani’s body and her voice was a thick rasp.</p><p>“The thing you said. The other night.”</p><p>“Come?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>“Please.” Dani had meant it as an extension of her original request—no need to forego manners, even at a time like this. But Jamie looked amused and Dani realized that she thought Dani’s <em>please </em>was in response to her <em>fuck</em>, and well, Dani thought with a blush, that was fine too.</p><p>“If we do this,” Jamie said softly, her eyes still gliding across every inch of Dani’s skin, “we do it my way.”</p><p>A tingle vibrated down the length of Dani’s spine. <em>Yes. </em>“Okay.”</p><p>“Turn round.” A quick jerk of her head and Dani spun around to face the vanity like she was a puppet on a string.</p><p>She watched in the mirror, her heart alive and erratic in her throat, as Jamie approached her, hands in pockets, stalking slowly like the night of the Round Dance.</p><p>She reached out a hand, hesitating just once to quirk a brow at Dani in the mirror. <em>Are you sure</em>? And Dani was nodding again and again because she was <em>so sure</em>. She’d never been more sure of a single thing.</p><p>Jamie’s hand made contact with the side of her ribcage, sliding its way down, a ghost of a touch coming to rest at her waist. She leaned in close, holding on to Dani’s waist as she swept her curtain of damp hair over her shoulder and pressed her lips against the back of Dani’s shoulder, just above the bandage. And it was so…gentle, so <em>pure</em> that Dani forgot how to breathe for a moment.</p><p>“Tell me,” Jamie whispered against her skin, “tell me if you change your mind. If you want me to stop.”</p><p>Dani could’ve laughed at that. Or cried. The notion of being interrupted one more time…</p><p>Jamie was waiting for an answer so Dani nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jamie echoed.</p><p>And then her hand was moving from Dani’s waist, gliding across her stomach, sweeping downward, ghosting over blonde curls and then. And then. The minute her rough fingertips made contact with Dani’s heat Dani bucked forward, practically ramming the table with her hips. <em>God. </em>She hadn’t been touched in so long, and this was <em>Jamie.</em> She wanted to be <em>consumed. </em></p><p>The haze on Jamie’s face cleared momentarily with a little smile and she gripped Dani’s waist with her other hand, holding her steady as she parted Dani with her fingers, swiping through her heat and <em>oh. </em>This was different. So incredibly different from stolen moments alone in her bed, pretending. Hollow imaginings. This was <em>real </em>and it was so good and it was Jamie and she was pressing a single finger against her entrance, pushing against it but not sliding in and when Dani looked up at her in the mirror Jamie’s pupils were blown and her breath was ragged and Dani’s mind was singing a mantra: <em>I want it I want you do it don’t stop God please</em>.</p><p>Jamie pushed into her, just one finger, just far enough for Dani to feel it, and maybe the thought would embarrass her later but Dani sort of wanted to shout to the entire world that she’d just figured out the purpose of life.</p><p>Jamie’s finger pressed in farther and Dani whined, not even a little bit embarrassed as she rocked on Jamie’s finger, feeling her core clenching at the incredible intrusion.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie breathed, watching her own hand touching Dani in the mirror, “you’re so—”</p><p>The words hung there and Dani needed to know. “So what? Tell me—”</p><p>“<em>Wet</em>,” Jamie ground out, adding a second finger without warning, dragging a hoarse cry from Dani’s throat, making Dani’s nails scratch against the surface of the table, “fuck, you want this,” Jamie was whispering, and <em>yes yes yes </em>she’d never wanted anything more, but before she could say so there was a litany of pleas spilling from Jamie, whispered and frantic. “Tell me you need this—need you to say it because I never meant to—”</p><p>“I need this, God I need this please, please don’t pull away—”</p><p>“Face the mirror, don’t—no, don’t touch me, this is just—this is for you because you need it—it doesn’t have to be anythin’ more—”</p><p>Dani nodded mindlessly. She would’ve given her soul up for one more brush of Jamie’s fingers. “Just takin’ care of you—same as cleanin’ your cuts, it’s not—it’s just because you need it—</p><p>“Jamie,” her name slid out on a frustrated whine because she was just holding her fingers inside of her and Dani needed more she needed everything, “I want this, I need this, <em>please</em>—”</p><p>Jamie slid a hand up her spine. “Put your hands on the table.” Her voice was a low rasp and Dani shivered as she bent forward. And that was all it took for Jamie to tighten her grip on Dani’s waist and start thrusting her fingers, slow and first and then faster.</p><p>Dani’s senses were in overdrive. The noises, slick and filthy, the musky scent of the caves mingling with the heady scent of sex, and the sight of Jamie, flushed and breathing hard like she was the one being filled.</p><p>It was building to something, Dani could feel herself clenching, winding, tightening, but she needed <em>more </em>and it was as if Jamie knew exactly what because a moment later she took her fingers out, shining with the undeniable proof of Dani’s arousal, and parted her slit again, higher up this time, and Dani could see it all happening in the mirror as Jamie’s fingers revealed her bud, straining and eager, sweeping her remaining free finger over it.</p><p>“Oh—” She groaned around the word, trying with all her might not to let her entire body succumb to convulsions because that had been the best thing she’d ever—Jamie did it again and Dani didn’t even try to stop her hips from thrusting into the touch.</p><p>“You like that?” Jamie husked, but she seemed genuinely curious, like she needed to be sure.</p><p>“Y-yeah,” Dani managed, “should think it’s obvious—”</p><p>There was a flash of a white smile and a muttered curse before Jamie started stroking her in earnest, sliding her fingers back up into Dani every several strokes and the rhythm and the wetness and the <em>pleasure </em>of it all, Dani was going to lose her mind from it.</p><p>And then, as if the situation at hand didn’t already have her teetering on the brink, Jamie stepped in closer. Adjusted her grip on Dani’s waist. And when she swiped her finger across her again and Dani let out another broken sob, she pressed herself against Dani’s backside, firm and purposeful.</p><p>When she did it a second time Dani tried to catch her eye in the mirror to encourage her, to tell her that she should, that Dani wanted that too, but Jamie avoided her eyes. Like she was embarrassed by her own need.</p><p>“Jamie,” Dani whispered, but Jamie shook her head, clenched Dani’s waist with her fingers and began circling Dani’s swollen bud like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.</p><p><em>Okay</em>, Dani thought. <em>Okay.</em> Jamie didn’t want to call attention to it. <em>Fine</em>. Dani would pretend she didn’t notice if that’s what she needed.</p><p>And it seemed that was exactly what she’d needed, because a moment later she thrust against Dani again, and Dani watched as her eyelashes fluttered, her lips parted around a little gasp.</p><p>For Jamie, Dani would pretend she didn’t notice. But for herself, she was noticing. She was noticing everything. The way Jamie’s hips stuttered against her with every push like she was trying to wring as much pleasure as she could from every press into Dani’s naked skin.</p><p>Dani could feel Jamie’s heat through her trousers, and it was doing nearly as much for her as Jamie’s finger, still stroking and circling and drawing ragged sounds from Dani’s chest.  </p><p>Dani didn’t want it to end but she could feel herself hurtling toward the abyss like the one she’d nearly thrown herself off of the night before but this time rather than saving her Jamie would be the one pushing her over the edge and <em>God </em>she couldn’t wait for the fall.</p><p>She felt it building, cresting, and mindless though she was she felt an odd compulsion for propriety—to tell Jamie it was coming, but all that she managed to utter was, “making me—I feel like—<em>God</em>, it’s—”</p><p>Somehow Jamie seemed to know exactly what she was trying to say and she pushed her two fingers back into Dani, grinding her palm into Dani’s bud and grinding herself into Dani.</p><p>“Go on,” Jamie urged quietly, “know you need to,” she said, even more quietly, and then in the softest voice yet she said, “I’ve got you.”</p><p>And that’s what did it. Dani fell. And fell and fell and fell. Some part of her was aware that she was making a noise a bit like a strained sob, her pelvis jerking erratically, dragging that sensitive part of her this way and that across Jamie’s finger which she was holding firmly in place, drawing out Dani’s pleasure. She was aware, in part. But the rest of her—<em>most </em>of her was gone. Hurtling through some astral dimension of <em>wet </em>and <em>heat </em>and<em> fingers </em>and <em>relief </em>and<em> finally</em>.</p><p>They stood there, both trying to catch their breath as they stared at each other in the mirror, the trickle of the waterfall echoing in the distance behind them. Jamie looked away first. Started to pull back. Dani didn’t turn around, she just snapped out a hand, reaching behind, grabbing hold of Jamie’s hip. Pulling her back. Their eyes met in the mirror again.</p><p>“Finish,” Dani said. “Finish what you were doing.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes got dark again. She swallowed. Looked down at Dani’s hand, still clutching her hip, pressing them together. Then she shook her head, the slightest movement. “Wasn’t about me. This was for you, you needed—“</p><p>“What if I need this too? What if I need to feel you—“</p><p>Jamie was still shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re askin’ me, it’s not—"</p><p>“Please.” Dani pushed back into her, ground against her purposeful and slow.</p><p>“<em>Christ</em>,” Jamie hissed, “if you keep—I’m not gonna be able to stop—”</p><p>“I don’t want you to stop.”</p><p>Jamie closed her eyes and breathed in, long and slow like she was fighting for composure.</p><p>But Dani didn’t want her composed. She ground into her again, digging her fingers into Jamie’s hip hard enough to bruise. </p><p>“Jamie,” she whispered. </p><p>Jamie’s eyes opened, meeting hers in the mirror. And Dani saw the minute her control snapped. She made a noise that bordered on feral, grabbing Dani’s hips with both hands and pushing into her, hard. Her next thrust was even harder, throwing Dani off balance, and Jamie grabbed her hand from where it was still clutched at her hip and slammed it against the vanity. </p><p>“Hold on to somethin’,” she growled, and Dani did, wrapping both hands around the far side of the little table, watching as Jamie suddenly and frantically tore at the ties of her trousers, shoving them down to her thighs when they were loose enough. </p><p>With one hand she grasped Dani at the hip and with the other shoved her own shirt up and out of the way. Dani barely had time to take in the glimpse of a muscled stomach before the next thrust came. Jamie angled herself and pushed in again, eyes rolling back as she dragged herself against Dani’s backside, soaked heat sliding against soft skin.</p><p>“Fuck,” she rasped, looking down between them. </p><p>She let go of her shirt to grasp Dani’s hips with both hands again, pulling her back, pressing into her until there was nothing left between them. Their eyes met in the mirror and then Jamie was rutting against her wildly, her brow furrowing and her eyes still on Dani’s.</p><p>“Tell me you want this,” Jamie said. Begging, panting.</p><p>“I want this, I’ve wanted this—“</p><p>“Just once, just this once,” she was nodding, “because we needed it—doesn’t have to be—“</p><p>“Jamie, shut up—”</p><p>Jamie did, but not for long, the next push of her hips had her moaning, deep and low. The look on her face was half awestruck and half filthy, her eyes going between Dani’s in the mirror and what she was doing against her backside.</p><p>Dani wanted to touch her, she wanted to be a part of it, she needed to, so she reached back a hand, seeking. But Jamie grabbed it and shoved it back on the table. Shook her head.</p><p><em>Fine. </em>For now she could keep that wall up. Dani could see the cracks in it anyway, it was only a matter of time.</p><p>Jamie’s nostrils flared when she looked up again at Dani, her fingers like iron clamps at her hips, and she started thrusting faster. Harder.</p><p><em>Fucking. </em>Dani tried the word on and found that it made her center pulse to life again. Jamie was fucking her. And just like that her core was aching again, just like that she <em>needed</em> again. She pressed her thighs together, sighing at the throb between them, but it wasn’t enough. She slipped her hand from the table again, trailing it down between her legs, and for one sweet second the brush of her fingers against her swollen center was bliss. But the next move of Jamie’s hips had her off balance again. <em>After</em>, she moved her hand back to the table. First, Jamie.</p><p>But then Jamie was taking a hand from Dani’s hip and moving it around to her front, offering it palm up the way she had on horseback. There if Dani wanted it.</p><p>All Dani had to do was lean in, so she did, looking down as she fit herself against Jamie’s hand. She started moving against Jamie’s hand in tandem with Jamie’s thrusts, and Jamie ground out a curse. Dani let out a ragged breath of her own because <em>God</em>, it was so good and it was everything and it wasn’t even almost enough—there was this raw and churning thing alive inside of her and it was making her <em>want</em> even while she was receiving. She couldn’t prescribe words to it, couldn’t understand it, but was being consumed by it all the same, this feeling that was flaring like an oil-spattered flame, making her think things, imagine things, want things she’d never allowed herself to consider, even alone in her own bed. Things like Jamie’s hands, holding her down, face to face without a scrap of clothing, rubbing and rutting against each other, watching each other lose control. Things like Jamie’s mouth, all over her, inside of her, consuming her and fucking her. Things that didn’t even make sense outside of a primal, mindless need—Jamie filling her, claiming her, never letting her go.</p><p>The next push drew a broken off cry from Dani, and Jamie’s eyes snapped back to hers in the mirror. Instead of pulling back to thrust again, Jaime lingered, pressed in tightly and ground against Dani’s skin, dragging raw noises from them both.</p><p>“Are you—” Dani swallowed, watching Jamie with more interest than she’d ever given a single thing before, “are you going to—?” Silly to ask. Needless. It was obvious she was, and soon. But there was a certain thrill in asking. In voicing it. In making it real.</p><p>“Yeah,” there was a hitch in Jamie’s breath, a crease in her brow, “fuck, yeah, I—God, <em>fuck </em>this feels so fuckin’—Christ, I want—"</p><p>“What?” Dani held her breath. “What do you want?”</p><p>It was like Jamie’s mouth and mind were at war—she was biting back words, shaking her head and Dani didn’t want that, she wanted to hear, she wanted to know what Jamie wanted so she urged her, “Tell me,” she said, quietly, insistently.</p><p>Jamie broke their eye contact with something akin to a snarl, clenching her jaw, looking away, moving against Dani all the while. When she looked back her eyes were steeled and Dani knew she wasn’t going to say it. Whatever she had almost said. Instead, Jamie started fucking into her with a vengeance, the vanity table’s legs scraping against the ground, banging against the cave wall. The ferocity of it forcing Dani back and forth over Jamie’s hand between her legs, now soaking and slick. <em>Fuck,</em> the noise of it alone was going to be Dani’s undoing. She turned to watch Jamie over her shoulder but the minute she did, Jamie’s free hand was at the back of her neck, pressing her down toward the table, forcing her to face forward.</p><p>“I’m—” she said, softly like she didn’t realize she was speaking aloud. “Fuck, I’m gonna—” Her eyes flicked to Dani’s in the mirror, her hand still pressing down on Dani’s neck. “Wanna fuckin’ mark you with it, make you remember—”</p><p>“I won’t forget—” Dani was shaking her head. Laughable to think she could. That she’d think of anything else ever again.</p><p>Jamie’s face twisted away. “Another life, maybe,” she husked, panting and close, so close, Dani could feel her rhythm stuttering, feel her dripping down her leg, “I’d find you and take my time. Spend a week fuckin’ you, turn you inside out with my tongue, make you scream with it—”</p><p>The noise Dani made was primal, and Jamie’s hand tightened around the back of her neck.</p><p>“Another life,” Jamie said again and their eyes met, Jamie’s brows pushed together, her mouth open, her eyes dark, “I’d take my time and fuckin’ worship you, you fuckin’ deserve to be—” Her jaw slid open farther and then she was leaning forward over Dani, keeping careful space between her chest and Dani’s torn back as she bit down <em>hard </em>on the juncture of Dani’s neck, coming with a wrenched sob.</p><p>And Dani tried desperately, frantically, to memorize it all—the sting of Jamie’s teeth in her neck, the filthy noises she made, the way her eyes screwed shut when it happened, the wet pulse of Jamie’s center as she spent herself against her. She wanted to hold on to every detail, every scrap and particle of it as Jamie marked her neck with her teeth and smeared her wet heat across her skin.</p><p>Jamie’s hand had stilled between Dani’s legs when she’d come, but soon she was letting go of Dani’s neck, resting her forehead against the back of Dani’s shoulder as she gently pushed on her hip, encouraging Dani to move again.</p><p>It started slow—it was different now that Jamie had reached her peak and Dani was the only one chasing her pleasure, but all thoughts of embarrassment faded when she heard Jamie whispering and realized that she was talking her through it.</p><p>“Doin’ so good, keep goin’,” she husked, barely louder than a breath, “just like that, yeah—”</p><p>Dani whimpered and sunk down a bit, putting more of her weight into it, forcing Jamie’s hand harder against her.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie was still talking, “don’t stop, so gorgeous when you’re fuckin’ my hand, makin’ yourself feel good on my fingers, Christ—”</p><p>Dani came, suddenly and savagely, her hips jumping and thrusting as she sobbed out around the all-consuming pleasure, using her own hand to trap Jamie’s in place, pressing it against her center as she pulsed and throbbed into her palm.</p><p>A silent moment slid by as Dani came down. She took her hand from Jamie’s and Jamie gave her shoulder one last bite, a gentle nip before stepping back and discreetly wiping her hand on her trousers as she pulled them back up.</p><p>Dani reached down for the towel, wrapping it back around herself. Suddenly self-conscious in the echoing quiet. She wanted to know if Jamie had noticed. If Jamie had realized. Jamie had called her gorgeous, and it had made her come.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After, when they’d dressed and gathered their things, collecting themselves in a daze, catching each other’s eyes every now and then with a small smile, a hint of a blush before glancing away, they left the cave and found that dusk had settled on Bly.</p><p>“Wait,” Dani said at the cave’s mouth, and Jamie stopped to look at her. “I know—I know you said it can’t happen again,” she gestured back down into the cave, “but—”</p><p>“You agreed,” Jamie cut her off. “Said if we did it we’d do it my way, and I already told you that meant once, like scratchin’ an itch—”</p><p>“I know,” Dani was nodding, “I know, and I’m not—I’m not asking that, that wasn’t what—” She sighed, suddenly frustrated. Maybe in part because she was rather hoping that Jamie would be willing to negotiate that particular clause in the agreement. “All I meant to say is that I think we should call a truce.”</p><p>Jamie stood there staring. “A truce.”</p><p>“I’m so tired of fighting with you. We fight about everything and it’s exhausting and I just,” <em>want to talk to you, want you to like me, want to get to know you with what little time we have left, </em>“want it to stop.”</p><p>Jamie gave her a suggestive smile. “Hatin’ each other’s half the fun though.”</p><p>Something clenched in Dani’s chest. “I don’t hate you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jamie said, using the heel of her boot to scratch at her ankle before scrunching an eye, peeking up at Dani through her lashes. “Don’t hate you either.”</p><p>And somehow, it was the most wonderful thing Dani had ever been told.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There was a moment when they were nearing the saloon when a rush of apprehension overtook Dani—what now? Were they supposed to just carry on? How strange and how awkward—</p><p>But things never had the chance to tip over into awkward, because when they got back to the saloon they found themselves in the middle of a warzone.</p><p>Miles was red-faced and screaming, pointing an accusatory finger across the room at Peter, who was by the stairs, hands curled into fists by his mouth, hiding his giggles. He was still wearing the same bonnet he’d been wearing that morning, and he’d added a gingham apron to the ensemble at some point.</p><p>Flora was standing on a table in the space between them, arms stretched out, in an apparent attempt to sheriff the situation.</p><p>“What,” Jamie said, wide-eyed, “the fuck is goin’ on?”</p><p>“He took them!” Miles screamed, jabbing his finger at Peter again. “He took them and he hid them and he WON’T SAY WHERE!”</p><p>“FOR THE LAST TIME, STOP SHOUTING!” Flora bellowed, and honestly Dani was a little impressed.</p><p>“What did you take?” Jamie asked Peter before turning to Miles. “What’d he take? Calm down—just talk to me, what’d he take?”</p><p>“Our journals! Our brand new journals with all of our writing—”</p><p>“You take their journals, mate?” Jamie arched a brow at Peter, who nodded proudly through another burst of giggles.</p><p>“Okay,” Jamie sighed, then reached out for Miles. “So we’ll find them. No need for all this, yeah?”</p><p>Miles seemed to calm for a moment, and then another giggle cut through the silence and just like that Miles was furious again, slamming his fist down on the nearby table.</p><p>“Goddamnit, man! This is my life’s work you’re fucking with!”</p><p>“Oi!” Jamie knelt in front of him. “None of that. He’s hidden your book, not set it on fire, yeah? All this chaos,” she looked over at Flora and Peter, “when you could just be lookin’ round for them.”</p><p>“He won’t tell us where he put them,” Flora said dismally. “He won’t even give us a hint.”</p><p>“I have an idea,” Dani said.</p><p>“See that?” Jamie smiled at Miles. “Your teacher’s got an idea. ‘S gonna be fine, mate. We’ll find them.”</p><p>But then Miles was eyeing her, squinting at her like he was only just then realizing something.</p><p>“What’s happened?” he asked.</p><p>Jamie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You’re different.”</p><p>“No I’m not.”</p><p>“Yes, you most certainly are.” Miles was looking at Jamie as though he could see straight through her skin. “You’re not scowling. And you’re eyes are all fuzzy.”</p><p>“Fuzzy.”</p><p>“Soft. Your eyes are soft. And your voice is doing that thing it does when you’ve just had a lovely dessert, but you <em>haven’t </em>just had a lovely dessert unless—unless you had dessert in the caves—”</p><p>Flora’s gasp was full of betrayal. “You had the cakes, didn’t you?” She cried. “That’s why you wouldn’t let us have seconds last night, you were keeping them all for—”</p><p>“Didn’t eat your bloody cakes,” Jamie said, but she was smiling. She stood up, and when she glanced at Dani her smile grew. “Just had a nice nap is all.”</p><p>Miles didn’t believe her. Neither did Flora. Even Peter looked suspicious. But Dani stepped in to distract, walking over to Peter.</p><p>“Peter,” she said, “did you hide the journals outside,” left fist, “or inside?” Right fist. He pointed at the left. “Outside, okay. Good.” She glanced at Jamie who stuck out her lower lip, impressed. “And are they hidden up high,” left fist, “or down low?” Right fist.</p><p>Right, he pointed. Down low.</p><p>It went on that way for a while until the search grid was narrowed down. The books were somewhere back behind the stable.</p><p>“You lot stay here,” Jamie said, “start workin’ on dinner, we’ll find the journals.” She rolled her eyes at Dani as they walked out the door. “In case there’s a torn page or somethin’. Can’t take any more of their screamin’.”</p><p>It wasn’t hard to locate the books, in the end. Peter had buried them haphazardly in the dry dirt and placed a little twig cross on top of the pile. They dug them up carefully, brushing off the dust, finding them largely unharmed.</p><p>“He does this,” Jamie muttered, flipping through Flora’s journal, a drawing of Totem on every other page. “Peter does, I mean.”</p><p>“Hide things?”</p><p>Jamie nodded. “Reckon he thinks he’s helpin’. Back when we were—well.” She shrugged. “Was a time when he had to squirrel things away, food and the like. Was how he survived. Old habits, I suppose.”</p><p>“So now he hoards things for all of you,” Dani said, suddenly understanding. “The things that are important. He’s protecting them for you.”</p><p>Jamie was nodding. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ though,” she laughed. She handed Dani Flora’s journal and opened Miles’. He’d already filled half of it with his writing. “Bloom Town,” she muttered, shaking her head at the title page where he’d written the words in large letters. “Bloody obsessed.”</p><p>“He wants to produce it, like a real piece of theatre,” Dani said, and Jamie looked at her. “Now that he’s writing it out, adding onto it and making it longer. He has this idea, he wants to perform it for a big audience. For Hannah, Owen, the Kuttuhsippeh, everyone.”</p><p>“Lofty ambitions,” Jamie said fondly.</p><p>“Why not?” Dani smiled.</p><p>“Why not,” Jamie agreed, fonder still. “Speakin’ of ambition—that thing you do with Peter,” she said, holding up a fist to clarify, “that’s, well. Really rather brilliant, honestly.”</p><p>Dani beamed.</p><p>“He’s smart,” Jamie’s forhead furrowed, “just…” she shook her head.</p><p>“Jumbled,” Dani finished.</p><p>And Jamie looked at her, and Miles hadn’t been wrong, her eyes <em>were </em>fuzzy and soft.</p><p>“Thank you,” Jamie said suddenly. “For all of it. Peter. Teachin’ the little ones. Incredible, this,” she held up Miles’ journal. “Reckon Peter and I will hafta build a bigger stage soon.”</p><p>Dani wanted to kiss her so badly it was an actual ache, and she was almost certain, with the way Jamie’s eyes kept sliding to her mouth, the way Jamie’s breath seemed to hitch now every time their eyes caught unexpectedly, Dani was almost certain Jamie felt it too.</p><p>They returned to the saloon with the journals, triumphant, only to encounter Flora standing at the top of the porch stairs, arms crossed and scowling.</p><p>“You said you didn’t steal the cakes,” she said the minute Jamie was within earshot.</p><p>“I didn’t, petal.”</p><p>“Well <em>someone</em> did,” Flora said, with an exhausted little shake of her head, “and they’ve left the kitchen a perfectly disastrous mess. We couldn’t start dinner because nothing is where it should be.”</p><p>“Alright,” Jamie muttered, tweaking Flora’s nose as she passed her.</p><p>Dani followed Jamie into the kitchen and stopped short. It was gone, all of it—every bag of flour, every onion, every apple, every cake and every oat. The cabinets were open and empty, the countertops barren. All the lovely things they’d purchased just yesterday at the Drifter’s Market, disappeared.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie groaned. She looked around at the ransacked room, the empty cabinets and she sighed, long and deep, before bellowing for Peter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jamie didn’t lock her door that night. She also didn’t go to bed. Dani was in her room stitching up a hole in a shirt she’d offered to patch for Miles when she overheard Jamie put both children to bed, but rather than retire into her own room Jamie had gone downstairs and back outside.</p><p>And later, when the hole was patched and the night too quiet and sleep elusive, Dani decided to find her.</p><p>It took exactly one guess to locate her atop the water tower. She was sitting on the far side, out of view of the saloon, a gas lamp at her side as she scribbled in the little book she always seemed to carry.</p><p>She looked up when she heard Dani step onto the platform from the sky bridge, a soft smile on her face.</p><p>“Trouble sleepin’? Jamie asked, turning back to write in her book.</p><p>Dani hugged her arms to herself, shivering as she nodded, watching Jamie write. She wanted to know what she was writing. Why she was always writing. She had so many things she wanted to ask her. So many things she wanted to know.</p><p>“Join me if you like,” Jamie said, nodding at the space beside her.</p><p>Dani slid down, back against the water tower and let her head tip up to bask in the moonlight. A moment later she felt Jamie’s eyes on her and she tipped her chin down to meet her eyes.</p><p>“You’re decent, you know that?”</p><p>Dani felt her eyebrows creeping up her forehead. Jamie was full of surprises.</p><p>“’S far as people go,” Jamie was saying, “you’re one of the better ones. And for what it’s worth, when you’re back with your own, I think they’ll miss you from time to time. The children, I mean. And Peter. You’re good with them. Good <em>to </em>them.”</p><p>It was kind, what she was saying. Beautiful even, their tumultuous beginnings taken into consideration. But Dani hated the words. Wished she could collect them and stuff them back in Jamie’s mouth. It was too early. They still had days. It was too soon to start saying goodbye.</p><p>“Think your husband’s a fuckin’ wanker to be honest,” Jamie hadn’t stopped talking, “but if you choose it I think you’ll be a great mum. You’re fuckin’ brilliant with the schoolin’, and maybe one day when you’re home and happy and have a couple children of your—”</p><p>Dani was straddling her, biting at her lips and kissing her and licking into her with a little cry and then a relieved sigh as Jamie recovered from the shock and held onto her waist, kissing her back.</p><p>And Dani was terrified, <em>terrified </em>that any moment Jamie was going to say no or stop or we agreed to once and only once. The thing was, Dani didn’t think it was fair, asking her to agree to such a thing before she’d known how earth-shattering it would be. How much she’d need it again and again and again. Maybe, she thought, if Jamie needed it just as badly, she wouldn’t try to stop her.</p><p>So with one hand winding into the curls pulled back at Jamie’s nape, Dani let her other hand trail down Jamie’s front, and on a sudden surge of bravery she shoved her hand down the front of Jamie’s trousers. And <em>God</em>—she pulled back for a second, looking in Jamie’s eyes with wonder before diving back to her lips because Jamie was already soaked and ready for her and it was like an answered prayer, they way her hips started rocking into Dani’s fingers.</p><p>“I have an idea,” Dani said, trying to get the words out.</p><p>“Yeah, I see that—”</p><p>Dani laughed softly. “No, it’s—I have a proposition.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes narrowed even as her breath stuttered, her hips jumped.</p><p>“You’re attracted to me.”</p><p>A dry laugh. “Sussed that out, have you?”</p><p>“And I’m attracted to you.”</p><p>“Are you now.”</p><p>“We both want this. We can’t—we can’t make it <em>worse</em>, right?” Actually, she didn’t want to hear the answer to that so she pushed on. “We could just…give in, for a few days and just…I want to know, Jamie.”</p><p>“Kn—know what?”</p><p>She slid her fingers up and down Jamie’s center. “Everything I’ve been missing.”</p><p>Dani thought it was promising then, when Jamie didn’t say anything, instead just tilting her chin like she was seeking out another kiss, which Dani easily gave her.</p><p>“Wait—” Jamie breathed, her hand leaving Dani’s hip to wrap around her wrist, pulling on the hand that was busy in her trousers.</p><p>But <em>no</em>, Dani didn’t want to wait, she didn’t want to stop, they both wanted this and—</p><p>“Hang on, hang on—” Jamie chuckled, adjusting, leaning to the side for a minute and pulling her revolver from its holster, setting it down beside the gas lamp. “So you don’t shoot your fuckin’ hand off,” she laughed.</p><p>“Responsible.” Dani grinned into another kiss. “And smart. Can’t do this without hands.” She sunk a finger deep into Jamie, her own mouth sliding open as she watched Jamie’s smug smile dissolve into rapture.</p><p>But after pumping her finger in and out several times her confidence faltered a bit. “I don’t know what I’m doing—”</p><p>Jamie’s head had fallen forward to rest against Dani’s stomach but she looked up then, her smile molasses-thick. “Feels like you have the general idea…”</p><p>“What do you like? Can you—will you show me? I want to—” <em>know how to make you feel good, the way you did for me.</em></p><p>Keeping her eyes on Dani’s face, Jamie slid a hand down into her trousers, resting it on top of Dani’s. Sliding it once, twice through her slick and then pressing two of Dani’s fingers into herself.</p><p>“These two fingers can go inside, in and out like this, yeah.” She moved Dani’s two fingers, now slippery, to her swollen bud and shuddered out a breath. “And feel—feel that? That’s—yeah, touch that any fuckin’ way you like cause that’s—<em>fuck,</em> yeah.”</p><p>And <em>God</em>, the sound of her voice. Raspy and tinged with that accent that Dani was starting to adore. Dani didn’t know it could be this way—that talking like this was allowed. Something people did. Edmund had kept quiet the whole time, his face turning bright red with the effort it took to hold it all in. Like he’d been embarrassed. Jamie was the opposite of embarrassed, the way she’d anchored her feet on the wood so she could thrust against Dani’s hand, the way she’d loosened her trousers enough to watch what Dani was doing to her. The way her mouth would slide open around a moan or a curse, her brows knitting together. The way her breaths got heavier and heavier until she was all but gasping. The way her head tipped back as she whined at the stars before snapping it back to stare at Dani’s hand moving between her legs as she ground out a <em>fuck, fuck, oh fuck don’t fuckin’ stop fuck that’s so fuckin’ good I’m so fuckin’ close Christ fuck. </em>The way she roared out her climax without a thought or care to the world around them, pulling Dani down for a kiss, all tongues and teeth.</p><p>When they pulled apart Dani swore she could see sparks firing between them.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were black as they moved from Dani’s lips to her eyes. “I want to fuck you,” she whispered, quiet as a secret. “God—can I? I’m so—fuck, I want you.”</p><p>Dani was slightly confused at that. “Isn’t that—didn’t we...earlier?”</p><p>Jamie’s smile was downright carnal. “You thought that was it?”</p><p>Dani shrugged, hating that there was so damn much she didn’t know.</p><p>“There’s so much more.” Jamie touched her thumb to Dani’s chin.</p><p>Dani nodded. “Okay,” she unbuttoned her top button but Jamie moved to stop her.</p><p>“Not here. Bed. The caves. I don’t want you quiet.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They made it as far as the winding rock stairway, the gas lamp set down on a ledge as Jamie stopped them for what might’ve been the fourth time in their short journey from the water tower to slot her mouth against Dani’s and take her fill.</p><p>Jamie started unbuttoning Dani’s shirt, loosening her trousers, frantically toeing off her own boots.</p><p>And Dani wasn’t complaining, not at all, but— “I thought—the bed?”</p><p>Jamie was already shaking her head. “Too fuckin’ far.”</p><p>When their clothes lay in a scattered heap on various steps above and below, Jamie told Dani to sit at the edge of a particularly wide stair and brace herself on the edge of the stair behind.</p><p>The flame in the gas lamp fluttered, a soft and cozy sound, but Dani couldn’t succumb to the quiet, couldn’t calm her racing thoughts as Jamie, topless in trousers, crawled between her legs and made her way from her sternum to her navel, dropping kisses as she went.</p><p>“What are you—I don’t know how any of this works—” Dani breathed.</p><p>Jamie paused, lifting back up to kiss her. “For tonight, will you trust me?”</p><p><em>For tonight. </em>Dani’s heart clenched. She knew what she was asking. Outside of their circumstance. Outside of abductions and ransoms and outlaws. Just this. Tonight. Between the two of them in the secret darkness of the caves.</p><p>Dani caught Jamie’s eye and nodded.</p><p>Jamie beamed. “Just want to make you feel good. I swear I’m gonna make you feel so good, but if there’s anythin’ you don’t like just say...” She glanced around. “Cavern.”</p><p>That was… “Why?”</p><p>Jamie shrugged a shoulder. “Secret word. We’re in a cave. Just—” she smiled, “tell me if somethin’s not good for you is all.” And then she spread Dani’s legs as wide as they could go and it wasn’t even embarrassing, Dani realized, to be so exposed. It was intoxicating. Jamie was kissing her stomach and then she was kissing her thighs and then she moved her head down farther, glancing up at Dani once.</p><p>And it was all Dani could do to grip the rock edge behind her and forgive herself for the undignified noise that hurtled out of her throat the minute Jamie leaned in and <em>licked </em>her. She’d never heard of such a thing, but oddly…oddly she’d imagined it. Thought about all the places she wanted Jamie, all the ways they could make each other feel good. But it was real and clearly Jamie had imagined it too and it was <em>happening. </em></p><p>“Okay?” Jamie was checking in, hot little puffs of breath against Dani’s inner thigh as she waited for an answer.</p><p>Dani nodded frantically. “Yes, this is...this is very pleasant.”</p><p>Jamie snorted. “You can do better than that.”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“No rules here. Fuck bein’ proper. If it feels good tell me. Tell yourself. Sigh, moan, scream, say any fuckin’ thing that you feel like sayin’. You’re free here. Don’t think, just <em>feel</em>.”</p><p>And when Jamie leaned back in, dragged her tongue up Dani’s center without breaking eye contact, twirled her tongue around her sensitive nub and then, <em>Jesus Christ,</em> sucked on it—Dani let go. Let herself <em>feel. </em>Her head tipped back on a deep groan.</p><p>“Tell me,” Jamie said, moving back in to suck on her, slide her tongue inside of her.</p><p><em>Fuck being proper. </em>She could do this. “It’s—it’s good,” she started, but <em>no</em>, that was too weak, “<em>you </em>feel good—”</p><p>“<em>Fuck.</em>”</p><p>“And it—it makes me feel like—” Christ, the things she was brimming with. The things she wanted to tell her.</p><p>“Keep goin’,” Jamie husked.</p><p>Dani clenched her jaw, half pure pleasure and half fierce resolve. “Makes me feel like I want to—to hold you there, your head, hold your head there and—”</p><p>“And what?” Another slide of her tongue.</p><p>“And <em>fuck </em>you,” the words crested on a surge of pleasure and Dani watched them suck the breath from Jamie’s lungs, tint her cheeks red and wanting.</p><p>Jamie leaned up and grabbed one of Dani’s arms, putting her hand on her own head as she leaned in once again. A glance. An arched brow. “So fuck me.”</p><p>It was rather a blur from there. Dani’s fingers grappling in her curls, her other hand being used as leverage, her hips up and off the stairs, thrusting and grinding into Jamie’s mouth. <em>Her mouth. </em>Christ, there wasn’t a thing filthier, there wasn’t a thing more miraculous.</p><p>Dani’s cries were echoing all around them and when Jamie’s tongue stabbed into and lingered there in her heat Dani stopped thrusting and just held her there, in that moment.</p><p>“I’m—” She was mindless now, smearing herself across Jamie’s lips, her mouth, fuck, even her chin.</p><p>“Say it,” Jamie said, and it was an order.</p><p>“I’m c-coming—<em>fuck</em>, I’m coming—” Dani met her eyes as it happened and it was as if the entire universe had collapsed in on itself and they were the only ones left alive, their bodies and their want and the static energy between them.</p><p>It was seamless, the way that in the next instant Jamie’s trousers were off and she was straddling Dani’s lap on the step, fixing Dani’s hand so it was down by her own center but with three fingers pointed up for Jamie to—<em>oh</em>, Dani realized. So she could do <em>that.</em></p><p>Jamie was tight and scalding and slick and soft and she was making noises, gorgeous dirty noises and Dani hadn’t even begun to do anything, she was just holding Jamie there as Jamie writhed on her lap, fucking herself into Dani’s hand.</p><p>Jamie’s hand slid into Dani’s hair from behind, and the next thing Dani knew she’d taken a fist of it, forcing Dani’s head back, forcing her to look up at her.</p><p>“The children can’t know,” she said, “that’s the first rule. We do this at night, only ever at night after they’re sleepin’, that’s rule two.”</p><p>Dani was nodding and grinding her palm against Jamie’s bud, which she’d just learned was the fastest way to drag incredible noises from her throat.</p><p>“Rule three, you tell me what you like and what you don’t—”</p><p>“I like—” <em>Everything</em>, she was going to say, but Jamie cut her off.</p><p>“Not negotiatin’, these are the terms.” It was amazing, the cocky bravado she could maintain even with half of Dani’s hand inside of her.</p><p>“Okay,” Dani said, as Jamie’s thrusts sped up, as her hips ground down.</p><p>“I’ll show you everythin’,” Jamie said, holding Dani’s chin to look her in the eyes. “Everythin’ you’ve ever dreamt about, everythin’ they robbed you of in that shitehole of a town that never fuckin’ deserved you in the first.” Her mouth slid open, her hand went to Dani’s shoulder for leverage as she fucked her hand, harder and harder. “Five days, we have. For five days I’ll show you fuckin’ everything.”</p><p>Dani pulled her down to kiss her, or maybe Jamie leaned down herself, but in the next moment they were kissing, their tongues dueling and stroking and their lips straining to smile through it all. When Jamie came she didn’t pull away, she just groaned her pleasure into Dani’s mouth and Dani swallowed it down and down and down and was still so thirsty for more.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Something peaceful settled between them as they walked back to the saloon, hair askew, trouser ties loose, the gas lamp swinging from Jamie’s finger.</p><p>Dani stopped in the middle of the road, a sudden thought halting her in her tracks. She’d known she wanted women for years. And now she <em>knew</em> she wanted women. Jamie, in particular. But the technical implications of such a thing had only just then occurred to her.</p><p>Jamie realized she’d stopped walking and looked back at her, questioning.</p><p>“I’ve just realized,” Dani said, barely keeping a wide grin at bay, “the term for it, I never thought much about it before but I’m—I’m a <em>homosexual</em>.”</p><p>Jamie laughed, a true and hearty laugh and Dani hadn’t felt such happiness in far too long. Jamie took a couple steps toward her and stuck out her hand for a handshake.</p><p>“Welcome to the club,” Jamie said, her lips still twitching. “Pleased to have you.”</p><p>“Twice,” Dani said, dropping Jamie’s hand with a little smirk and stepping by her to continue up the road, glancing back to clarify. “Pleased to have me twice.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dani would sleep in Jamie’s bed in the saloon, they decided. Rather convenient, it turned out, that Dani’s injury could be used to explain away any questions the children might have if they caught on to the new arrangement. Jamie had to change her bandages, they could say, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. Not entirely, anyway.</p><p>By the time they made their way back to the saloon, upstairs and into their sleeping attire Dani was well and truly exhausted. Jamie was too, it seemed, she’d yawned five times since the caves. Not that Dani was counting. Not that she couldn’t take her eyes off of her.</p><p>They settled into bed, the salve Jamie had used working to numb Dani’s back so she could sleep comfortably. But sleep didn’t come.</p><p>She lay there in the silence, long after Jamie had reached over beneath the covers to squeeze her fingertips with a muttered <em>‘night</em>. Dani was tired, sated, happier than she’d been in a thousand years and yet she could not sleep. She just lay there, grinning at the ceiling.</p><p>“Can hear you smilin’ over there,” Jamie murmured against her pillow.</p><p>“You cannot.”</p><p>Jamie lifted her head, Dani could just make her out in the darkness. “Smilin’. Knew it.”</p><p>Dani shrugged and looked back at the ceiling. “I’m happy.”</p><p>“Orgasms’ll do that,” Jamie said, and there was a smile in her voice too. “Also make you tired,” she yawned again.</p><p>“It’s just—” Dani hesitated, unsure of how to voice the thought. “I thought it was like eating. Like when you’re hungry, you eat, and then you’re not hungry anymore.”</p><p>“Mmhmm…”</p><p>“But it isn’t like that. I just want more.” She rolled her head to the side, peering at the dim lump of Jamie’s head. “And more. And more.”</p><p>“Christ.” Jamie shifted, flopping onto her back. “Bloody insatiable, you are.”</p><p>“Complaining?”</p><p>“Not nearly,” Jamie’s teeth flashed in the dark. “But I’m fuckin’ knackered, how are you not knackered?”</p><p>“Because…orgasms.”</p><p>“Right. Well. Can’t live on orgasms alone, yeah? Need sleep. Both of us do.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>A silent moment slid by, then another, the two of them side by side, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>Finally, Jamie tilted her head towards Dani, the slightest movement. “Again?”</p><p>Dani grinned so wide it hurt. “Yeah.”</p><p>And for the third time that day, they met in the middle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tip of the hat to Raginage and Shananigans402 for always being up for a meeting of the minds and for their invaluable input for *that* scene. You're both stars.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>M:</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Fuck. Don’t fucking say it, I know this is bad. I just—she’s braver than she looks, this girl. Braver than I expected, if I’m honest. And you should see her. I can’t—I mean, she’s got this face. Wars have been waged over less, I’m telling you. Motherfuck it all I’m a bloody thundercunt of a gobsmacked knobfaced fool. She wanted it as much as I did though, the girl did. More than once. So there’s that. In my defense, like. Christ. Who the hell knew. Fuck.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>-J</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was late morning and they were picnicking on the ridge just outside Bly. <em>A change of scenery,</em> Jamie had announced at breakfast, <em>is what we all need.</em> The truth of it was that the picnic was a last-ditch effort to placate Flora, who’d been furious all morning. But Flora had just packed her rage in the little basket alongside the beans and biscuits and brought it along with her.</p><p>“For the hundredth time, Flora—<em>no</em>.”</p><p>Her tiny fists clenched even tighter. “Then we’ll revisit the matter when you’re feeling more agreeable.”</p><p>“No! Has nothin’ to do with bein’ agreeable, the answer’s no and that’s it.”</p><p>Flora scowled. “You’re being perfectly cruel and I’m quite cross with you.” She sent Dani a pointed glare. “I’m quite cross with you both!” She spun on her heel and marched away.</p><p>Jamie shook her head. “Eight, she is. Imagine her at twelve? <em>Sixteen? </em>Christ.”</p><p>Dani smiled. “I feel bad. She thinks we’re being mean.”</p><p>“No, she thinks she’s an adult. Thinks she ought to be treated as one.”</p><p>“In her defense she thinks the adults are having sleepovers for fun—”</p><p>“Are they not?” Jamie quirked a brow and Dani rolled her eyes.</p><p>“She just feels left out, Jamie.”</p><p>“For good reason.”</p><p>“But <em>she </em>doesn’t know that. Maybe we could—I don’t know—”</p><p>“Use a padlock? Barricade the door?”</p><p>It had all started that morning, their first morning together after establishing the new arrangement. Jamie had woken Dani with her lips, trailing kisses up her arm, across her shoulder to her neck, and it had all come crashing back to Dani—the caves, the agreement. <em>God.</em> The caves. She’d made a happy little sound of encouragement and Jamie had swung her leg over to straddle her lower back, kisses turning to soft bites and Dani let out a whimper but then everything came to a screeching and horrible halt when the door banged open with a loud <em>Good morning! </em>in Flora’s cheery singsong.</p><p>“Fixin’ her bandages!” Jamie had managed to shout immediately, sounding as if she were in the throes of a heart attack as she made vague hand motions in the general vicinity of Dani’s back that Dani was certain Flora had not been fooled by.</p><p>But in the end Flora was too heartbroken by the notion that they’d had a sleepover without her to take in much else about the situation.</p><p>“She’ll be fine,” Jamie said, “it’ll burn out. Her anger always does.”</p><p>They watched from the edge of the ridge as Flora marched her way across the dirt floor down below, kicking at the pebbles and dried brush that dared to challenge her path.</p><p>Miles and Peter were playing catch with a small leather ball, an activity that seemed to be quite challenging for Peter—his reactions were delayed and he consistently reached out for the ball well after it had already sailed past him. He hadn’t caught it once, but it didn’t seem to vex him. Each time he simply shrugged bashfully and retrieved the ball from the ground, throwing it back to Miles. They both stopped and waited patiently as Flora stomped her way across their playing field.</p><p>Dani settled down on top of the fluffy quilt they’d spread out on the ridge and a moment later Jamie joined her, stretching out on her back, arms behind her head and ankles crossed, tipping her hat down over her face to block the sun. The pair of black trousers she was wearing were especially fitted, and Dani’s eyes kept sliding to the strip of skin that had appeared between the bottom of her vest and the top of her belt when she’d stretched out.</p><p>Dani crossed her own ankles and leaned back on her hands, smiling at the way Miles was trying to get Flora to come join their game below. She blinked up at the sun.</p><p>“You know,” she squinted at the blinding white spot a moment longer before glancing at Jamie, “I think I’m getting used to the heat.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Jamie said from underneath her hat, “no one gets used to bein’ burned alive.”</p><p>“My skin isn’t getting red anymore,” Dani held out an arm, looking it up and down, “it’s just getting darker and all…speckly. I used to get freckles on my face in the summertime, I thought I’d outgrown it.”</p><p>“Bring it here, then,” Jamie said, still hidden beneath the hat.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Your face. Gotta check for freckles.”</p><p>Dani eyed her with a cautious smirk, glancing down at Peter and the children, still playing their game, before bringing her face closer to Jamie.</p><p>Jamie lifted her hat and used it to cup the back of Dani’s head, bringing her in close, her eyes moving all over Dani’s face.</p><p>“Not seein’ a single one,” Jamie said, “better come closer.” She tried pulling her down farther but Dani broke away laughing, and just then the leather ball flew up over the ridge, bouncing heavily on Jamie’s left breast.</p><p>“Ow.” She sat up and squinted down over the edge. “Which one of you wankers should I chuck this at?” She held up the ball.</p><p>Dani laughed at the trio of innocent faces staring up from below.</p><p>“We’re bored,” Miles said.</p><p>“<em>Bored</em>?” Jamie sounded disgusted by the very word. “You’ve got guns, daggers, horses and a desert full of creepy little rodents and reptiles to explore, how the fuck could you be bored?”</p><p>“We want to use the flyer,” Flora said.</p><p>“Told you the wind needs to be right for it,” Jamie said, waving a hand at the stone-still air. “Check back in an hour. Go explore. I need to have a little chat with your teacher.”</p><p>Dani rolled her eyes on a grin. At this rate they’d be onto them by dinner.</p><p>Just then a gust of wind blew in, seemingly from nowhere, as if summoned by the gravity of Flora’s pout. The little girl’s face lit up and she pointed a finger at the breeze, victorious.</p><p>Jamie sighed. “Bollocks.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The flyer. It was a large kite that Jamie and Peter had made for the children—something they were only allowed to use on special occasions. They hadn’t stopped talking about it all morning, and now that the wind had picked up Dani watched as Miles and Flora assembled the contraption over by the horses.</p><p>“It’s quite dangerous,” Miles said, eager and animated when they’d come down from the ridge to join the others below, “so Jamie only allows us to use it sparingly.”</p><p>Jamie shrugged when Dani looked over at her.</p><p>“Lower your chances of gettin’ hit by lightnin’ if you only traipse round durin’ storms once in a great while.”  </p><p>“Or you could just…not go outside when it storms.”</p><p>Jamie shot her a look of mock horror. “And never feel the rain against your skin?”</p><p>“I want to go first!” Flora shouted when the flyer was ready.</p><p>It was a massive contraption—two triangles of taut canvas stretched over a wooden frame like outspread wings with a rod of scrap metal fixed beneath.</p><p>“Let Peter carry it up the ridge,” Jamie said, shooing the children away as they fluttered around like frantic moths.</p><p>Perhaps it was the new arrangement, the memory of Jamie’s lips and hands and <em>mouth,</em> that was bogging down Dani’s mind and making her thoughts come in slow motion. Maybe that was why she didn’t process what the flyer was, <em>why </em>it was so dangerous, until the moment it happened.</p><p>Peter was holding the flyer aloft at the very edge of the ridge, and Dani assumed that perhaps when the wind picked up the apparatus would float up on its own, that it didn’t require a string. But then Flora, brave and bold (and utterly out of her mind, Dani decided), began sprinting toward the edge of the ridge from a hundred paces back, screaming out a battle cry as she went. Dani realized what was about to happen and by then it was too late to panic. All she could do was watch, frozen in horror, as Flora reached the flyer and grasped the bar below the wings at the same time as Peter let go.</p><p>And off she went. Sailing straight out over the twenty-foot drop, farther and farther. She was <em>flying </em>and Miles and Jamie were cheering her on and Dani’s stomach was on the desert floor but slowly, as she realized that Flora’s trajectory was bringing her gently and safely back down to solid earth, a different feeling began to take up residence in Dani’s chest. Fascination. She was utterly fascinated.</p><p>“You <em>made </em>that?” She looked at Jamie.</p><p>Jamie shrugged. “Peter and I.”</p><p>“How?” The flyer, the sky bridges, the false facades in Bly.</p><p>“Spent years doin’ odd jobs on the docks, small repairs on ships and the like. That shite sticks.”  “But this is—” Dani just shook her head, watching Flora touch down, run a short way and then turn to look back, cheering and raising a tiny fist to the sky.</p><p>“Not so different from a ship’s sail when it comes down to it,” Jamie said.</p><p>Miles went next, making a point of marking where he landed by drawing a line in the dirt and insisting that he’d gone much farther than Flora, and then even Peter took a turn and he couldn’t stop giggling afterward.</p><p>“Your turn, Mrs. O’Mara!” Flora said, after Peter had carried the flyer up the ridge again and positioned it in place.</p><p>“Oh—” Dani glanced at Jamie. “I—”</p><p>“Not everyone’s mad as you, petal,” Jamie tugged Flora’s braid. “Takes a right bit of lunacy to throw yourself off a—”</p><p>“I’ll do it.”</p><p>Everyone looked at Dani.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” she said again. “It doesn’t look…hard.” It looked terrifying, truth be told. But it also looked exhilarating.</p><p>The children showed her how to do it. How to get a running head start, how to put her weight behind it when grasping the bar with arms outstretched, hands equidistant for balance and distribution.</p><p>“Once you’re in the air you just hang on tight,” Miles was explaining, “and it’ll float you back down.”</p><p>The children were beside themselves with giddiness at the idea of Dani using the flyer and they rushed down the ridge and across the desert floor so they were there to meet her at the other end.</p><p>Dani took her position at the opposite end of the ridge and took a moment to steel herself, bending over, hands on the knees of her trousers. She could do this. She’d just watched an eight-year-old do it. An eight-year-old who was both fearless and an outlaw. But still.</p><p>“Not too late to bow out,” Jamie called over from where she was standing, smoking and watching Dani closely.</p><p>“Why would I bow out?”</p><p>“Look a bit scared is all.”</p><p>Dani threw her braid over her shoulder and sent her a glare. “I’m not scared, I’m just—I’m preparing myself.”</p><p>Jamie was smirking and nodding at the ground as she crushed the tail end of the cigarette beneath her boot. “’S fine to be scared, no shame in it. Could start smaller, jump off a little rock or somethin’ if this is too—"</p><p>But Dani cut her off, launching into a determined sprint and racing across the ridge, throwing the world around her into a blur and hitting the bar of the flyer with enough force that she felt the clangor vibrating in her bones.</p><p>And then she was airborne.</p><p>Twenty feet above the ground wasn’t actually all that high up, and yet it felt for all the world as though she were gliding through the clouds, the way she could see out across the land to the dark edges of the horizon. The way she could see it all so clearly, the layers of the land, tan earth and yellow grass and olive cacti and red rocks and brown hills and endless blue sky. The air was whistling around her, the breeze tossing the tendrils that had come loose by her ears, and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so perfectly separate from the rest of the world. And in that moment, with the sun just a little bit closer and all earthly problems just a little bit farther, Dani realized something. An obvious thing to take note of, perhaps, but still, something she’d been too distracted to fully ponder. Danielle O’Mara, wife and schoolteacher, had boarded a train in Iowa and disappeared into the ether. She was gone. There was only this: wonder and thrill and trousers and whiskey and dark curls and boundless curiosity and vibrant freedom. How was she ever supposed to go back to bonnets and housewives and quiet schoolrooms and Sunday sermons?  It would be simpler to fit a flowering tree back into a seed. She could never go back to before.</p><p> </p><p>“Smooth landin’.” Jamie had come down from the ridge and was swaggering her way over to meet them, Peter at her side, and she chuckled when Dani gave a small curtsy.</p><p>Jamie took the flyer from Miles and headed in the direction of the horses.</p><p>“But,” Miles called after her, “aren’t you going to take a turn?”</p><p>“I am takin’ a turn,” she called back before whistling for Moon, who dutifully left the patch of grass she’d been munching on and came to Jamie’s side. Jamie rested the hand holding the flyer on the saddle and swung up, but instead of settling into the seat she carefully stood, standing up and balancing on her feet as Moon chewed and waited patiently below.</p><p>Miles squinted at the scene unfolding before them, shaking his head. “This…doesn’t…seem…”</p><p>“Oh hush,” Flora flapped a hand at him, “Jamie’s perfectly brilliant at this.”</p><p>That made Dani feel a bit better. “She’s done it before then? From a horse?”</p><p>“No.” They said it in unison.</p><p>Just then Jamie shouted a command down to Moon, who launched forward, forcing Jamie to bend her knees and lean into the sudden movement. And it was undeniably impressive, the way she was able to keep her balance atop the saddle. Once she was steady she slowly lifted the flyer, and when Moon began to run faster, as a canter became a full-speed-ahead gallop, she leapt into the air, the flyer held high overhead.</p><p>She was airborne, and the children were cheering, and Moon was slowing, seemingly confused by Jamie’s sudden departure. Dani shook her head. Of course Jamie could leap off of a horse and into the air on a kite. Of course she could.</p><p>Just then there was a downdraft and the flyer—and Jamie—took a sharp nosedive toward the ground below. It was as if the wind had decided to put her in her place and smack her right out of the sky, the way she was flying one minute and in a heap the next.</p><p>“Oh, God—” Dani said, peeking at the scene from behind her hands. “Jamie?”</p><p>All three of them rushed toward to the little patch of grass where she’d landed. Well. Ended up. At least she hadn’t hit the cactus. Just then Jamie let out an ungodly screech, followed by a string of curse words.  </p><p>“Are you hurt?” Dani was nearly to her, she could see her there in the brush attempting to untangle herself from the flyer.</p><p>“No!” Jamie shouted quickly, and her hand shot out to halt Dani in her tracks. “Don’t—don’t come any closer.”</p><p>Dani stopped, unsure if she should honor Jamie’s request or force help upon her, pride be damned. The children and Peter appeared at her side, seeming to consider the same thing.</p><p>“It was a lovely flight while it lasted, Jamie,” Flora called sweetly.</p><p>“Cheers,” Jamie grumbled, finally standing and twisting around to look at something behind her. “Fuckin’ hell—”</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Dani took several steps closer and this time when Jamie stopped her Dani didn’t listen, Jamie was being ridiculous, so Dani kept walking, but then Jamie was speaking sternly, a hint of panic at the edges of her voice.</p><p>“I’m fuckin’ serious, stay where you are—I,” she twisted around again and Dani was close enough to see her jaw clench and her eyes roll, “I fell on a…” Whatever words followed had been mumbled.</p><p>“What did she say?” Miles asked Dani, and Dani shook her head.</p><p>“You fell on a what?” Dani called.</p><p>“A snake,” Jamie spit back, more than aggravated at this point. She twisted to show them. Sure enough, there was a brown snake hanging from the left side of her buttocks, twisting and twining and latched on fast with its teeth.</p><p>“Oh no!” Flora cried, “We’ll need to suck the poison—” Her words seemed to catch up to her and she made a face before looking up at Dani. “Mrs. O’Mara, you’ll need to suck the—”</p><p>“It’s not poisonous,” Jamie muttered, “just a fuckin’ nuisance and he won’t let go.”</p><p>“Snakes,” Peter giggled.</p><p>“I could shoot it off!” Miles was already approaching, his revolver out and ready.</p><p>Jamie put up a hand to stop him. “Just—stay there. I’ll handle it. You come over here you’re likely to scare him and he’ll bite down harder.”</p><p>Moon was approaching, tentative and curious. She seemed to appraise the situation, sending the rest of them a rather judgmental glare for just standing about and not offering Jamie a single scrap of help.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” Dani asked. Stupid question. The creature was hanging on by its fangs. Of course it hurt.  </p><p>Jamie fixed her with a look. “Barely feel it. Just need to—” She twisted again, gingerly tried to grasp the snake behind the jaw but the angle was all wrong and she straightened back up with a frustrated sigh.</p><p>Dani could see the red working its way into Jamie’s cheeks and she stifled a smile. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just tell me how to help—”</p><p>“I’m not embarrassed.”</p><p>“It’s okay if you’re embarrassed!” Flora shouted, then lowered her voice to mutter, “I would be embarrassed.”</p><p>“I’m not embarrassed it’s just a fuckin’ snake—fuck, Moon—no!”</p><p>Dani and the others watched in horror as Moon, loyal as ever, gently took the back end of the snake between her teeth and began to pull. The snake wouldn’t let go, and now, neither would Moon, and what followed was a bit of a tug of war that ended with Jamie knocked off balance, face down and shouting obscenities as Moon pulled and pulled at the damned thing.</p><p>“Jamie—” Dani watched helplessly, “what do we do?” Then lower, to the others, she asked, “will it just—let go? Eventually?”</p><p>“Who’s to say, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora was shaking her head, “who’s to say.”</p><p>Jamie had managed to stand back up but Moon hadn’t let go and Jamie was shouting at her as she attempted to get her own grip on the snake, stumbling a bit and knocking into a nearby cactus, immediately showering the plant with curses, the snake remaining embedded the entire time.</p><p>Dani hissed. “It seems to have…quite a firm grasp.”</p><p>“It’s all rather bleak, isn’t it?” Miles said blandly.</p><p>Peter giggled again. “Snakes.”</p><p>Suddenly there was a loud braying sound as the snake miraculously let go of Jamie, only to twist around and bite Moon. Jamie had it by the neck not a moment later, tossing it as far as she could and waiting a moment to be sure it wasn’t coming after them. She smoothed a hand over Moon’s face, kissing her nose and checking her over. Moon seemed unfazed, rubbing her forehead on Jamie’s shirt and nibbling her belt buckle.</p><p>“So,” Jamie turned toward the rest of them with a decisive little nod, smoothing her hands down her trousers, which were covered in dust and bits of brush, “who’s for lunch?”</p><p>Dani made it over to her first. “Are you—” She pushed at Jamie’s shoulder, trying to turn her so she could check the bite.</p><p>“Oi!” Jamie shook her off with a smirk. “Usin’ my misfortune as an excuse to peek at my ass.” She tutted. “Honestly.”</p><p>“There’s blood,” Dani said. Four little pinpricks on the back of Jamie’s trousers. Not much, but still.</p><p>“Patch me up later, yeah?” Jamie asked with a wink and <em>how, </em>how could she be so sure of herself when not a minute ago she’d had a serpent hanging from her backside? Her <em>ass</em>. Vocabulary, Dani thought. Another part of her that had grown and changed in just over a week that she wasn’t certain she’d be able to leave behind. Wasn’t certain she’d want to.</p><p>Flora appeared, taking Jamie by the hand. “That’s what you get for being cheeky.”</p><p>Jamie looked utterly offended. “Cheeky?”</p><p>“That’s right,” Flora nodded, “you never let us use the flyer on horseback but the minute you decide you want to show off for Mrs. O’Mara you throw caution to the wind and look what happens.”</p><p>“Show off for Mrs.—” Jamie sent Flora a look. “I was <em>not </em>showing off.”</p><p>But Flora just smiled a little knowing smile and skipped up the ridge, leaving Jamie to flounder and Dani to blush.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Up on the ridge they ate beans and toast and sipped tea. After eating Flora took a nap on the blanket and Dani pretended not to notice when Jamie trailed a finger over Flora’s forehead as she slept, gently tracing the swoop of her little nose.</p><p>Miles pulled his journal from his trousers, settling down cross-legged and opening it up to a bookmarked page.</p><p>“Could pack that in the saddlebag like a civilized human bein’ rather than stuffin’ it down your britches,” Jamie said, eyeing Miles’ journal with an air of distaste.</p><p>Miles shrugged. “I keep it on me at all times. As I’ve told you,” his little eyebrow arched, “it’s my life’s work.” He settled in to write and when Jamie lay down next to Flora, Dani’s attention turned to Peter, who was tugging at the saddlebag and pulling out <em>Paradise Lost</em> for the hundredth time in the last week.</p><p>“You brought it with you?” Dani asked and Peter nodded, three jerks of his head, handing Dani the now-worn book. She found the page he’d left off on and opened it in front of him so he could read.</p><p>“You know the problem with that bloody book?” Jamie muttered from across the blanket.</p><p>Dani smiled without looking up. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”</p><p>“Bloody right I am. Since you insist on teachin’ with it.”</p><p>“As I’ve said it’s the only—”</p><p>“Satan. That’s the problem.”</p><p>“Alright. Go on.”</p><p>“That’s the point, isn’t it? I’m sure Milton thought himself clever, writin’ an interpretation where Satan is a bit more ambiguous than the zealots might prefer, makin’ the priests clutch their rosaries, makin’ the preachers panic. And sure, most people agree that Satan’s the baddie, but then you have your more brazen readers willin’ to consider that maybe Satan isn’t the baddie after all, maybe he’s more complex than all that. Misunderstood, like. But it’s all a fuckin’ ruse and meanwhile nobody’s payin’ any mind to the actual bloody issue.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“A God who creates hungry people. Makes them crave knowledge, joy. Love. Puts that hunger in them and then smacks them down in the middle of a world brimmin’ with ways to sate it, but sends them a rulebook sayin’ they can’t have a lick of it. What’s the point of that?” Jamie lifted up on her elbows. “You starve somebody in a cell, throw them a piece of bread and punish them when they eat it, well. You’re a fuckin’ monster.” She lay back down, closing her eyes. “Way I see it, God created people so he’d have somethin’ to punish.”</p><p>Dani swallowed. Slowly shrugged, even though Jamie wasn’t looking. “It’s the only book I had.”</p><p>Jamie grinned without opening her eyes. “I’ll buy you a new one at the Drifter’s. Next time.” She rolled away, settling onto her side, her head in the crook of her elbow.</p><p>And Dani turned back to Peter, doing her best to ignore the twinge in her chest. They only went to the Drifter’s Market once a month, Flora had told her. There wouldn’t be a next time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That night the wave of bravery Dani had ridden the night before had all but dried up, the swell of it pulled out of her like the tide. At dinner she kept sneaking glances at Jamie, who seemed marginally happier than usual, if not altogether relatively unaffected by their arrangement. They’d agreed to every night, Dani kept reminding herself. No need to worry that Jamie would forget. Pointless to fret. Reminding her, confirming with her—it would all seem a bit desperate, Dani scolded herself. So she bit her lip and said nothing.</p><p>The thing was, Jamie was good at it. At pretending things were normal between them in front of Peter and the children. Pretending that they hadn’t…that they hadn’t…<em>God. </em>And that was the other problem. Dani’s mind kept flickering with images of tongues and teeth and skin and sweat and brows creased in focus and lips opening around a gasp and <em>fuck</em>, how was Jamie just casually flicking water at Miles from the bucket of water she’d filled to clean the dishes?</p><p>It was then that Dani realized, with an embarrassing dip of disappointment, that perhaps it hadn’t affected Jamie the way it had affected her. Jamie had done it before. Probably a lot. Her mind flashed with the vision of Jamie, all confidence and smooth edges, sinking down onto her hand. Alright, definitely a lot. So maybe it had been just another night for her. Maybe the details, the lines of it hadn’t permanently etched themselves across her brain, rewriting every thought, every association. Dani grabbed a dish to help clean and <em>shit, </em>she couldn’t even look down at her own fingers, wet with dishwater, without seeing them wet with something else entirely. She was broken. Wholly and utterly. And Jamie hadn’t even glanced at her in an hour. Half an hour, at least.</p><p>By bedtime the tide of bravery had pulled so far back from shore that Dani’s nerves had withered like the very desert. Jamie was in Flora’s room, lounging beside her on the bed as Flora read to her from the story she was writing about Totem growing wings. Dani could hear their conversation drifting down the hall.</p><p>“And see here,” Flora was saying, “those are her antlers—”</p><p>“She’s got wings <em>and </em>dried up head sticks now?”</p><p>“They’re not head sticks, they’re antlers, and she’s really quite proud of them.”</p><p>“They look like sticks.”</p><p>“To hide in the wilderness. For her protection,” Flora said, and Dani could just see the self-certain look on her face, like it should all be perfectly obvious.</p><p>“Got a lot of enemies, has she?”</p><p>“They’re very majestic creatures,” Flora sounded quite nearly offended by the question, “they’ve been hunted for centuries for their fiery feathers alone.”</p><p>“Ah. Of course. Clumsy of me to forget the feathers.”</p><p>Jamie stayed in with Flora for a long time. Then she went to check on Miles, and stayed with him for a while after that. By the time Dani heard Miles’ door open and close with a gentle <em>snick, </em>followed by light footsteps in the hall, she had resigned herself to the idea that Jamie hadn’t actually meant <em>every</em> night. Come to think of it Dani couldn’t be sure she’d even said those words explicitly—perhaps she’d heard what she wanted to hear. She’d been rather distracted at the time, besides.</p><p>And so, when Jamie appeared in her doorway, gray shirt untucked and hair hanging free at her shoulders, Dani smiled politely and bid her goodnight. It was late and she hardly expected Jamie to invite her for a trek out to the caves at this point. And it was fine. It was all fine.</p><p>“Goodnight?” The look on Jamie’s face could’ve curdled milk. “The fuck do you mean, <em>goodnight</em>?”</p><p>Dani opened and closed her mouth a few times before words found their way out. “It’s—I don’t know, it’s—” She gestured dumbly at the dark window, at the late hour. “I didn’t know if—”</p><p>Jamie stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it, arms crossed. “Didn’t know if?”</p><p>“If—” Dani shook her head, turning to straighten the blanket on the bed, smooth the pillow, anything to avoid Jamie’s amused gaze. “If you’d changed your mind.”</p><p>Jamie let out a dry laugh. “Not bloody likely.” Then Jamie straightened, looking serious. “’Sides, I’m infirm, if you’ll recall. Was attacked by an enormous serpent today and had to wrangle him myself to protect the lazy lot of you—”</p><p>“Is that how you remember it?” Dani tugged the blanket again, her cheeks warming and a smile starting.</p><p>“Was the gist, at least. And I seem to remember you agreein’ to patch me later.”</p><p>Dani finally turned to face her, crossing her own arms and not trying to hide her smile. “Did I?”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Jamie nodded, then shrugged, almost shyly. “And it’s later.” Suddenly her face changed and she looked so alarmed Dani turned to look over her shoulder to see if some sort of spectral beast had appeared behind her. “Unless—” Jamie started, “I mean, if <em>you’ve </em>changed your mind about everythin’, then I don’t—”</p><p>“No,” Dani said, wincing internally at the frantic edge in her voice, “no, I—um. I haven’t. Changed my mind.”</p><p>“Oh.” Jamie’s grin was back. “Right. Good. That’s um. That’s good.” She cocked her head, one eye squinted as she hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “You wanna—?”</p><p>And yes. Yes, Dani did <em>wanna</em>. “The children—” Dani hesitated. “They’ll be alright here?”</p><p>“They don’t actually cause all that much trouble when they’re asleep, if you can believe.”</p><p>“Will they be safe, I mean.” Dani lowered her voice. “From—if you’re not here and the bad people come—”</p><p>But Jamie was already shaking her head. “Bly’s near invisible at night, way it’s tucked by the mountain.” Her voice got lower. “Like a secret in the shadows. Somethin’ dark and darin’ and not meant to be known by the masses.” Her eyes dipped to Dani’s mouth.</p><p>Dani rolled her eyes. “That’s—” She laughed and shook her head. “Quite the metaphor.”</p><p>“’S an analogy, actually.”</p><p>Dani considered it, conceding with a little shrug.</p><p>“And you call yourself a teacher.” Jamie slid her a look.</p><p>Dani pursed her lips to hide a smile. “Everyone’s asleep,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You’re the teacher now.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>~*~</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dani took a long bath the following morning and afterward came downstairs to find the saloon in disarray. All the mismatched furniture had been dragged out to the street, Peter was scrubbing at the windows with a rag and Miles and Flora were balancing precariously atop shelves in opposite corners, brooms in hand, poking at the cobwebs strung across the ceiling.  </p><p>“Spring cleaning?” Dani asked Flora, getting to her just in time to offer a hand as she teetered and lost her balance.</p><p>“Not at all, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora said with a grateful smile, handing Dani the broom so she could climb down, “it isn’t even springtime.”</p><p>“Jamie always makes us sweep up before we have company,” Miles explained, holding onto the top of a window and leaning out to swipe at a thick strand with his broom.</p><p>“Company?”</p><p>The two of them nodded and then stared at her blankly. Today rather than lines and shapes they’d used the coal to draw little black noses and whiskers on.</p><p>Dani left them and headed out front where Jamie was piling firewood by the firepit. She was wearing white trousers and a tan vest with nothing underneath, and she’d likely been at it with the firewood for some time because she was flushed and sweating. It took herculean strength for Dani to drag her eyes away from the veins in Jamie’s forearm.</p><p>“Miles and Flora just said you’re expecting visitors?”</p><p>“Few days from now,” Jamie said, rearranging a couple pieces of wood so they stacked more neatly, then dragging her arm across her forehead, disrupting several curls. “Bit of a tradition. Last Friday of every month Owen and Hannah come for a spell. Dinner and the like.”</p><p>“Owen and Hannah,” Dani nodded, feeling distinctly relieved. “That will be nice. Good.” There’d been an odd moment where she’d wondered if they were preparing to play host to Edmund when he came to collect Dani, and that would’ve been bizarre. Not to mention something Dani was doing everything in her power not to think about.</p><p>Jamie was nodding, scratching her nose and then stretching backward until her back made several popping sounds. “They make a show of visitin’ but really they’re just keepin’ tabs,” Jamie said. “Makin’ sure we’re still alive. Checkin’ that I haven’t forgotten to feed the little ones.”</p><p>“Well you <em>did </em>forget to feed us that time when—”</p><p>“It was <em>one </em>time, you wee maggot,” Jamie said, grinning at the sound of Flora’s voice on the porch.</p><p>“We’ve finished with the cobwebs,” Miles said, appearing at her side. “Can you play with us now?”</p><p>“You promised,” Flora said.</p><p>Jamie gestured around at the chairs and tables and settees. “And whose goin’ to dust these? The fairies?”</p><p>“More likely the fairies than us,” Miles said, and Jamie’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“Cheekier by the day, you are,” she said, sounding more impressed than annoyed. “Little twat.” She squinted at the sky and when she brought her gaze back down to earth her eyes settled on Dani, resting there for a moment before turning back to the children with a sigh. “Alright, fine. Could use a break myself.”</p><p>The children cheered and Jamie pointed a finger at them. “But after we’re dustin’ this lot, and you’re helpin’.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hide and seek was a favorite pastime in Bly, Dani had known that from the start because Miles and Flora had plenty of stories about all the secret places they’d discovered during the game, all the times they’d driven Jamie crazy, hiding for hours as her annoyance turned to panic.</p><p>“Kids against adults,” Miles announced, laying down the laws of the game. “Anywhere in Bly is acceptable territory for hiding—”</p><p>“Except the caves,” Jamie said, and Miles rolled his eyes.</p><p>“We <em>know</em>,” he said, “I hadn’t gotten there yet, please don’t interrupt.”</p><p>Jamie lifted her hands in mock surrender.</p><p>“Anywhere in Bly <em>except </em>the caves. And Peter’s on your team.” Miles nodded with finality.</p><p>“Fine,” Jamie said, “your loss. Peter’s excellent at findin’ things.”</p><p>“But he’s shite at hiding,” Flora said dismally.</p><p>“Well. Yeah,” Jamie agreed fondly.  </p><p> </p><p>The children hid first and it didn’t take long to find them, hiding in the rafters of the stable. Then it was their turn, and Dani suggested one of the ruined houses at the outskirts of town.</p><p>“If you fancy spider bites and scorpion stings,” Jamie said, and Dani had quickly suggested the roof of the saloon instead.</p><p>The children found them soon after, in part because Peter couldn’t stop giggling, clutching Silver to his face to cover the sound but making a racket all the same.</p><p>It went that way for a while—the children would hide, they’d find them. They’d hide, the children would find them. After several rounds Peter got bored and wandered off, and the next time it was Dani and Jamie’s turn to hide Dani was about to suggest the water tower when suddenly Jamie was tugging her in a different direction altogether.  </p><p>Dani hadn’t been inside the jailhouse yet. It was a modest little building, similar to the haberdashery, all dust and wood. There was a long counter and behind it a row of cages, tall metal bars and swinging gates. At the far end of the row of cells was a door, and Jamie was already opening it.</p><p>“C’mon,” she said, gesturing Dani over with a quick jerk of her head.</p><p>The door led to a short flight of stairs, down to the basement, where there were barrels and crates and another cell in the corner. The planks of the floor above were warped and imperfect and the sun slipped through the spaces between, lighting the basement with strips of dusty daylight.</p><p>Jamie was still up by the door, and Dani went to investigate the cell. There was a rusted metal frame in the corner that had at one time been some poor soul’s bunk, and there were shackles fitted to the metal bars. She flipped one of the cuffs open and it creaked.</p><p>“Missed opportunity,” Dani said, “you could’ve kept me in here.”</p><p>“Thought about it,” Jamie said, and Dani could hear her smile.</p><p>Just then Dani noticed a small key on the dirt floor. “Joke would’ve been on you,” Dani bent to pick it up, “the key’s sitting right here.”</p><p>“Key to the shackles, maybe,” Jamie said, finally descending the steps, “not the key to the cage.”</p><p>Dani turned to find her standing there, holding up a larger key on a length of twine.</p><p>Dani smiled and leaned back against the bars. “How long before they find us, do you think?”</p><p>Jamie shrugged and joined her in the cell, pulling the gate closed behind her. Turning back to her, stepping into her space.</p><p>“Reckon it’ll be a while.”</p><p>Dani snorted. “I rather doubt that—the two of them? I swear they know where we’re going to hide before we do.”</p><p>“Does seem that way,” Jamie was nodding, but then she was smirking, “so this time I locked the door.” Her eyes slid up the short flight of stairs. “It could be an awfully,” she took a step closer, “awfully long time.” She bracketed Dani’s head with her arms, holding onto the bars behind her as she leaned in to nip at her neck.</p><p>“But—” Dani shook her head, “that’s—well it’s cheating, isn’t it?”</p><p>Jamie pulled back to make a face. “Fuck if I care.”</p><p>“That’s—oh,” Dani’s eyes closed, Jamie was doing something really nice with her teeth along her jaw.</p><p>“Can you be quiet?” Jamie whispered against her neck.</p><p>“What—<em>here</em>?”</p><p>Jamie was already untying Dani’s trousers. “Why not?” She captured Dani’s mouth, pressing her thumb into the hinge of Dani’s jaw and forcing her to open, to let her in.</p><p>There was something about it, about the way Jamie used her entire body to kiss, surging into her with her hips and her tongue. Dani started tearing at Jamie’s trousers, but Jamie shook her head.</p><p>“You first,” she said on a frantic breath, shoving Dani’s trousers to her thighs and leaning back in, finding Dani’s lips with her mouth and Dani’s heat with her fingers. “Gotta be quick,” she whispered, “can you?”</p><p>“Breaking the rules,” Dani whispered. “It isn’t nighttime.”</p><p>Jamie shrugged. “Reckon it’s fittin’ we’re in jail then. This okay?” She’d begun to stroke her slowly, using her teeth on Dani’s neck.</p><p>Dani nodded, biting her lip to keep in a pitiful whimper and feeling it when Jamie smiled against her jaw.</p><p>Then, with a devilish grin, Jamie sunk down in front of her as Dani took a steadying breath, wrapping her hands around the bars behind her. Without warning, Jamie spread her open and latched onto her, mouth warm and tongue twisting, and the thrilling shock of it sent Dani’s head snapping back against the bars.</p><p>“Jesus, fuck—you alright?” Jamie looked genuinely worried.</p><p>Dani was nodding and laughing at the same time, she didn’t really feel it, not when Jamie’s concern was fading into a rogue smile as she dipped back in, holding Dani’s thighs in place with her hands as she opened her mouth to lick a slow trail the entire length of Dani’s slit.</p><p>Watching Jamie do this, looking down to see her eyes closed in concentration, her head moving against Dani’s center with confident certainty, it was a fantasy Dani never dared dream of coming to fruition. The thought alone—that this reckless lightning strike of a woman was on her knees before her, licking at her sweet and slow like Dani was dripping honey—the thought alone was pushing Dani toward the edge.</p><p>When Jamie swirled her tongue around Dani’s bud once, twice and a third time it was too hard to keep her hand from flying to cup the back of Jamie’s head. Her curls were pulled back the way Jamie seemed to prefer but the movement of her head beneath Dani’s tight clasp was pulling coils free, making a wreck of them.</p><p>Dani was teetering, gasping and staring down as Jamie’s mouth pressed in and back, her tongue teasing and flicking and teasing again. It started as a sharp whine deep within her, growing louder and stronger until Jamie looked up at her with those eyes, flattened her tongue and then dragged it slow and firm and <em>fuck </em>that was it, that was—</p><p>Dani came, barely managing to stuff her other forearm into her mouth to stopper her scream. Jamie was holding her thighs and working her through it, pressing her tongue against her gently, letting her ride it out.</p><p>Just then the door upstairs opened, a loud grating sound in the still silence, followed by the children’s footsteps barging in.</p><p>“Jamie…” Flora’s sing-song carried down through the slatted floorboards, “Mrs. O’Mara….” Both children’s movements eclipsing the slants of sunlight that shone down to the basement, making the light shift and dance.</p><p>Jamie stood slowly, hauling up Dani’s trousers as she did. She met Dani’s eyes, putting a finger to her lips and Dani shot her a look because <em>obviously</em>, what was she going to do, call out to them?</p><p>Miles was trying the door at the top of the stairs.<br/>
“It won’t budge,” he was saying to Flora, and then they were both pulling at it and for a moment Dani was certain they’d tear it from its old hinges.</p><p>“They’re not here, Miles,” Flora said, sounding bored and ready to move on.</p><p>But Miles wasn’t quite ready. “This door is never locked. Don’t you think it’s odd?”</p><p>“No,” Flora said. “Peter’s been squirrelling things away again, Jamie’s probably keeping her valuables down there.”</p><p>“<em>What </em>valuables?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she groaned, clearly at her limit, “can we go? They must be in the schoolhouse—”</p><p>“The haberdashery—”</p><p>“Yes, I know that Miles, but it’s where we have school—”</p><p>They were gone and Dani let out a breath, Jamie shook her head with a smile. The next moment, when Jamie spun them around so that she was the one with her back to the bars, her hands coming up to cradle the back of Dani’s skull, pulling her in for a kiss, Dani acted on impulse. Suddenly it was back—the boldness she kept finding beneath all the layers of doubt and hesitation. She didn’t know what made her do it, except that it felt fitting. Fair. Like getting a bit of her own back, the way she caught Jamie unaware, the way her eyes went wide when Dani reached up to grab her wrists from where they were resting on her shoulders. In a move too fluid and perfect to ever be replicated, Dani brought Jamie’s wrists up and back over Jamie’s head, slamming them into the waiting shackles and snapping them shut. The irons were on a hinge that locked the cuffs into place automatically, rendering the Jamie’s arms immovable, and Dani stepped back with a proud grin.</p><p>“What,” Jamie’s eyes were narrowed to slits, “the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”</p><p>Dani couldn’t stop grinning. “Is it,” she tilted her head, “uncomfortable, being in this position?”</p><p>“Reckon that depends on what you’ve got planned.”</p><p>Dani was already toying with the waistband of Jamie’s trousers. Teasing a finger, running it along the edge, ghosting across her skin.</p><p>She slid her entire hand in, seeking out Jamie’s heat, watching as Jamie’s jaw clenched, her hands sliding into fists above the iron bracelets.</p><p>It didn’t take long to work Jamie into a frenzy, there was a rhythm that Dani was learning, slow circles followed by a firmer rubbing, back and forth until Jamie was panting. When Dani pushed her fingers into her, working through the burn in her wrist, it was a matter of moments. Seconds, even. Jamie’s hips jutted forward, her fists in a white-knuckled clench above, a whine starting low in her throat, growing to a growl as she tried to drag it out, thrusting into Dani’s hand again and again.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie whispered, coming down.  </p><p>They stood there, face to face, studying each other in the staticky moments that followed as their breathing steadied and slowed. Jamie’s eyes were greyer today, like the beginning of a storm, and she was watching Dani, taking every detail in, and Dani felt like she was the one pinned to the wall, splayed and vulnerable and on display. Maybe it was the fact that it was midday, the bright bars of sunlight harsh and unavoidable, that changed the way the moment fell around them. Magnified it until it no longer felt calculated, no longer felt like that natural aftermath of a consensual agreement. It felt like more. It felt like there was a question there, brimming in the minimal space between them.</p><p>Jamie took a breath as if preparing to speak and Dani’s heart tripped in anticipation and then suddenly there was a shout from the street above.</p><p>Miles. Shouting for Jamie.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie breathed, leaning her forehead against Dani’s mouth with a little chuckle. “Never ends. Reckon we should—” She nudged her head toward the stairs.</p><p>Dani moved to free Jamie, attempting to fit the key she’d found into the little hole on the side of the shackles, but the shape was all wrong, it was square ended where the hole was circular. Her stomach flipped.</p><p>“Jamie—” She looked at her in panic. “This isn’t the right—”</p><p>But then Jamie shifted her hands and the shackles clicked open and she slid her hands free, her mouth curled around a stifled laugh.</p><p>“Proud of yourself, I see.” Dani glared at her, but the longer she glared the wider Jamie’s smile became.</p><p>“If you’d asked I would’ve told you they were broken, but we were in the moment, like,” Jamie shrugged and then grabbed Dani’s wrist when she turned away, tugging her back. “Didn’t wanna disappoint you! You can chain me up later—honestly, wrap me in irons and hold me underwater in the caves, or bury me alive if you like—”</p><p>“I want to do none of those things—”</p><p>Jamie laughed, pulling the cell door open. “Just sayin’, if it’s a bit of revenge you’re after, by all means.”</p><p>“By any means, apparently,” Dani shook her head, pushing past her to the stairs. “<em>Bury you alive. </em>Honestly.”</p><p>“Try everythin’ once, that’s my philosophy—”</p><p>“Better save that one for last then.”</p><p>They were halfway up the stairs when Miles shouted for Jamie again, but this time there was panic in his voice.</p><p>They found them on the street—Peter on the ground, cradling Flora and Miles shouting frantically.</p><p>“What’s happened?” Jamie was by Peter’s side in a flash.</p><p>“Her cough,” Miles said, “she had a fit while we were looking for you and it was worse than last time.”</p><p>“I don’t feel good,” Flora said softly.</p><p>“Dry air,” Jamie muttered, “all this fuckin’ dry air.” She took Flora in her arms. “I’m takin’ her to the hot spring for a bit, the air’s different down there.”</p><p>As Dani watched them go she was struck with the same feeling she’d had on the train the night she’d first met them. Something was coming, inevitable and immovable. Something bigger than Edmund and ransoms and kidnappings turned arrangements turned maybe something more. And whatever it was, time was running out.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>~*~</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next day Jamie decided it was time to clean the saddles.</p><p>“Sittin’ higher every time I ride,” she’d said when they’d gone to feed the horses and the state of the saddles hanging on the wall had caught her eye, “layers of dust and filth pilin’ on.”</p><p>So she’d dragged all five saddles down to the caves to clean them, leaving Dani with most of the day to teach.</p><p>“How do you spell <em>angelic</em>, Mrs. O’Mara?” Miles asked, sitting up on his knees, bent over his journal on the table.</p><p>She spelled it for him, then turned to Flora, who had recovered from her coughing attack the day prior and was currently drawing large antlers onto a new drawing of Totem the Majestic Flying Beast.</p><p>“He’s writing about you, you know,” Flora said absently, “that’s why he needed that word.”</p><p>“Flora!” Miles growled, his face growing red, “I am <em>not </em>writing about Mrs. O’Mara, I’m writing a play!”</p><p>“Of course you are, Miles, you’re writing a make believe story about a beautiful lady who comes from the heavens to save the lonely demons wandering around the desert.” Flora looked at Dani, putting her hand by her mouth in a mock whisper, “It isn’t very subtle. You’re the beautiful lady, he’s just too shy to say.”</p><p>“FLORA!”</p><p>“Miles—” Dani’s teacher voice at the ready, but then she saw his red face and panicked eyes and remembered what she’d been discovering about this boy, day by day. How from the very beginning he’d been afraid of the truth, preferring to coat it with a pretty lie, a smooth veneer. She chided herself for only realizing it just then, because it was so obvious. He wasn’t a liar, he was a storyteller. He told the truth but he told it cloaked. He communicated through stories when reality was too ugly. Too scary. Storytelling. That was it—that was Miles’ key. And she could work with that. One student figure out, two to go.</p><p>Dani had to tamp down the sudden urge to beam at him—he was still red-faced and seething.</p><p>“It sounds,” she started, choosing her words carefully, “it sounds a bit like you were inspired by the book Peter is reading. Heaven and demons?”</p><p>“Everyone knows about angels and demons, it’s quite common,” he spat, “ and I haven’t stolen the story if that’s what you’re—"</p><p>“I’m not,” Dani shook her head quickly, “I’m not. In fact, I’m of the opinion that the best writers <em>should </em>find inspiration in great literary works—”</p><p>“I’d hardly call Paradise Lost a great literary work,” he sneered.</p><p>She bit her cheek because, tempted though she was, it would help nothing to tell him that she found his opinions rather lofty for someone who’d been illiterate just one week prior. <em>Patience. </em>She’d reach him if she kept a cool head.</p><p>“Perhaps not,” she smiled, “but there are plenty who’d disagree with you, <em>and</em>—” she said quickly when he opened his mouth to argue, “that’s the beauty of stories—everyone experiences them differently. For example, perhaps Flora believes you’re telling a story rooted in truth—”</p><p>“He’s named the angel Daniel and the demon James, so—"</p><p>“<em>But</em>,” Dani said, loud enough to cover Flora’s commentary, “every story has a little bit of truth in it and that’s the point—for everyone to take from it what they need. Someone might read Flora’s story about Totem and find that it reminds them of their friendship with their own horse—”</p><p>“Flora is writing about magical creatures who leave trails of fire in the sky. She’s writing for children,” he said with disgust. “Babies, even.”</p><p>“So?” Dani asked. “Children and babies need stories just like adults need stories. And I happen to find the notion of flying horses wonderfully charming.” She sent Flora a smile which was instantly returned. “Stories bring people together. They give us hope, don’t you think, Miles?”</p><p>He shrugged slowly, eyeing her like he suspected ill-intent behind her question. “That’s why I’m writing Bloom Town,” he said finally, after seeming to decide to trust Dani. “It was just a silly rhyme before—”</p><p>“It wasn’t silly Miles,” Flora said, “it was incredibly professional—"</p><p>“But it wasn’t a proper story,” he said, and it was like all his anger had been pushed out and replaced with passion, the way his eyes were alight, “and this time it will be. This time it will have a real ending.”</p><p>“But there <em>was </em>an ending,” Flora said, “remember?” She ticked her head back and forth as she recited, “And once you’re there you can live and dream and never fear the night, because in Bloom Town all is well, all is good, and all is light.”</p><p>“That isn’t an ending,” Miles said, “it’s more like a promise.”</p><p>“So how will your play end?” Dani gently prodded when it was clear Miles wasn’t going to elaborate.</p><p>“They find it,” he said, with simple finality. “They find Bloom Town and they live there together. Everyone who has ever been lost. The angels and the demons and everyone in between.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That afternoon Peter finished the book once and for all, a proud grin on his face when Dani closed it and stepped back to peer down at him with a proud grin.</p><p>Even the children joined in celebrating, Flora with a clap and a whistle and Miles with a hearty <em>well done, mate</em>. Dani had launched into an excited monologue about how she’d write down a list of books for Jamie to purchase for him the next time they went to the Drifter’s Market. Tennyson, she thought, as well as Emerson and Thackeray. And the new one—the Dickens book—</p><p>“David Copperfield!” She remembered with a snap of her fingers. “The papers are saying it’s his best yet, and—”</p><p>Peter had begun tapping at the countertop, lightly at first and then with increasing urgency. Finally he was banging his finger against it with enough ferocity to threaten a fracture, so Dani stopped talking to stare down at him. Peter stopped banging, glanced at her, then tapped his finger once more against the counter, gently this time.</p><p>“You—are you asking—” She ran through the list of possibilities in her head—something she’d grown accustomed to doing in Peter’s presence, attempting to interpret his bids at communication. “You want to choose?” She picked up a spare piece of coal and leaned down to write on the counter. “You want to choose which book you’ll read next? Here, I’ll write the titles—”</p><p>Peter grabbed her wrist. “No.”</p><p>Dani stopped to look at him, his face was creased in frustration. “Do you want…” She glanced at Miles for help, but Miles just shrugged and kept on writing in his journal.</p><p>Then Peter poked his finger at the cover of Paradise Lost before stabbing it at the empty countertop once more. “Ask,” he said. “Ask.”</p><p>And of course that’s what he wanted, Dani could’ve smacked herself for being so obtuse. At the end of every class she always reviewed his reading with him, tested his comprehension, and he always seemed to anticipate that portion of the day.</p><p>“You want me to quiz you on Paradise Lost?” She confirmed, and he nodded eagerly.</p><p>She grinned at him as she thought about it. What to ask him. Typically the questions were concrete—did Adam and Eve inhabit a garden or a desert? Did Eve eat an apple or oat bread? But it was very possibly the last chance she had to work with Peter this way, and so when the question came to her—when she remembered what Jamie had said the day before—she ran with it.</p><p>“Alright,” she said, drawing what she hoped looked like a smiling stick figure striking a mighty pose on one side, and a scowling sharp-toothed figure on the other, “hero” she pointed at the smiling figure, “and villain,” she pointed at the other. She looked at Peter. “Is Satan the villain or the hero?”</p><p>It was a gamble because there was no right answer, and Peter always seemed to sense the open ended questions even when cleverly phrased. It was as if, when the answer had to come from <em>him </em>and not known fact, his mind yawned open and his confidence was crushed beneath the weight of possibility.</p><p>He stared at the counter for a long time.</p><p>“Ask him something else,” Miles suggested, but Dani shushed him and turned back to Peter.</p><p>“Take your time,” she whispered. She didn’t want to ask him something else. She wanted his answer to <em>this </em>question. Quite possibly because she didn’t know the answer herself.</p><p>Another moment passed and Dani pointed at the figures again. “Which one? Villain or hero?”</p><p>And slowly Peter began to shake his head. Side to side, side to side. Then he pointed his finger at his own chest.</p><p>“No,” Dani said softly, “in the book, is Satan—”</p><p>“Me,” he said, and he stabbed his finger into his chest again, then pointed at Miles and Flora. “Them.”</p><p>Dani’s mind raced. He was saying something, he was always saying something, and they so rarely took the time to understand.</p><p>“You’re saying,” Dani started, desperately trying to piece his pantomiming together into something that made sense, “are you—are you saying we’re all heroes and villains? All of us?”</p><p>But Peter just began hitting himself in the chest harder and harder. Dani tried to stop him but he kept at it until finally she had to call for Miles.</p><p>“He’s answering your question,” Miles said, a mild hint of frustration in his tone. “You only gave him two choices but the right answer wasn’t there. Satan is <em>us</em>, that’s what he’s saying. The lot of us. Cast out to wander alone.”</p><p>“But I don’t want to be Satan,” Flora said, finally looking up from Flying Totem for perhaps the first time all day.</p><p>Miles shrugged. “Alright then, you’re not, you’re a soaring wildebeest thing instead,” he gestured at her journal which seemed to please her greatly and she sent him a grateful nod.</p><p>Dani looked at Peter. “Is that what you were saying? That Satan is you?”</p><p>“A horde of demons, that’s what we are,” Miles said with a sharp grin that was so much like Jamie’s.</p><p>Dani smiled. “You’re hardly demons—”</p><p>“But—we <em>are</em> outlaws,” Flora said softly, as if she’d just then remembered. There were worry lines on her forehead. “We are bad.”</p><p>“You’re not bad,” Dani said, with a sudden surge of conviction the likes of which she’d never felt before. “Listen to me, all three of you, you’re <em>not </em>bad. You’re not.”</p><p>“We kidnapped you for money,” Miles said sadly.</p><p>“And,” Flora’s little lip had started to tremble, “you’re—you’re a perfectly lovely lady—”</p><p>“Listen to me,” Dani said. “The odds were stacked against you from the start and the world isn’t set up for people like that. For people who are different. You’re surviving and that’s all that matters.” She looked at each of them. “You are not bad.”</p><p>“Then…” Miles had a curious quirk in his brow as he searched the ceiling before looking back at Dani. “Maybe the demons weren’t bad either? The world wasn’t set up fairly for them and they were forced to be the baddies.”</p><p>“Or maybe,” Dani said, looking between them all, “maybe none of that matters. Maybe there are no demons and all that matters is what’s right in front of us. No heaven, no hell, just the life we make right here on earth.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a wry smile on her face, “one week with us and the preacher’s daughter is a proud heathen.” She pointed at Peter and the children. “You lot ought to be ashamed. If there is a hell, we’re good as damned.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That night after everyone else had gone to bed, Dani perked up at the sight of Jamie’s head popping around the doorframe from the hall.</p><p>“You wanna—”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Help me bring the saddles up, is what I was goin’ for there.”</p><p>“Oh. I—sure. I could do that, yes.”</p><p>On the way to the caves Dani filled her in on Peter’s progress.  </p><p>“It’s like I’m on the brink of something,” Dani said, “if he can answer questions by pointing then there must be a way to adapt that, to give him the tools to speak freely in his own way—”</p><p>Jamie was nodding along but then she stopped. “Does that already though, doesn’t he? Speak in his own way.”</p><p>“He does,” Dani agreed, because it was true, “but it must be frustrating for him, the world always chattering around him, ignoring him the way people do.”</p><p>“Speak for yourself, I don’t ignore him—”</p><p>“I don’t mean <em>you</em>, I mean, at the market—people don’t speak to him, they speak to you, or they speak to Miles and Flora about him.” Dani snuck a glance at Jamie. “And you do ignore him. Once in a while. Not on purpose, but I’ve seen him trying to get your attention when you’re busy with something else, and he gives up after a bit because the children are loud and demanding and it’s easier to ignore the person who can’t express himself—”</p><p>“You’ve seen me ignore him?” Jamie said, and there was a tone there that put Dani on edge, like they were skirting dangerous territory. But then Jamie’s face was falling and she was lifting her hat to shovel her curls back with one hand. “Shite. I don’t mean to,” she looked at Dani, “but it’s hard with the little ones. Constantly,” she twisted her face, making chatterbox gestures with both hands. “Enough to drive you mad most days.”</p><p>“I don’t think he faults you for it,” Dani said. “Honestly, I think he’s used to it—”</p><p>“But Christ, that’s worse! I don’t want him used to bein’ ignored—”</p><p>“Jamie,” Dani stopped walking to smile at her. “All three of them worship you.”</p><p>But Jamie hadn’t heard her, she was muttering to herself. “I’m a bad mum.”</p><p>Dani laughed. “You’re not, you’re really not. You’re actually pretty spectacular.”</p><p>Jamie shook her head and looked away on a sigh. “Just sayin’ that.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>Jamie gave her a little smile. Shy, almost, before growing serious again. “You reckon there’s a way to help him speak up more? Peter?”</p><p>“You built a flyer and gave everyone<em> wings</em>. I’m absolutely certain there’s a way to give Peter a voice.”</p><p>And the smile Jamie gave her then wasn’t shy at all. It eclipsed the sunset behind them.</p><p> </p><p>She’d oiled the saddles with some tincture she’d made from her garden, the remnants of shredded leaves were still stuck to the sides of a mortar and pestle on the bed. The saddles were shining in the low light, set out to dry on the bed and over the ledge of the natural rock window.</p><p>Jamie tested one with a swipe of her finger. “Over oiled them.” She pointed to the vanity where Dani was standing. “There’s a rag in the drawer there, mind grabbin’ it?”</p><p>Dani retrieved the rag and was about to close the drawer when something else caught her eye. She’d never seen anything like it before, never imagined there to be a need for such a thing to exist, and yet she knew immediately what it was. And she couldn’t stop staring at it.</p><p>“What’re you—oh.” Jamie let out a low chuckle. “That.”</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Dani snapped out of it, slamming the drawer shut. “Sorry.”</p><p>Jamie was cleaning off a saddle that was set atop a pile of pillows on the bed, her lips clamped down over the wide, shit eating grin she was clearly trying to smother.</p><p>Dani swallowed. “Do you need help with the oil? On the—the saddles? The saddle oil? What you’re doing? Do you need help? With the? With the saddles?”</p><p>Jamie straightened, passing the now dirty rag back and forth between her hands. “If you like.” She went back to cleaning but Dani could still see her almost-smile. “There’s another rag in the drawer.”</p><p>“The same—?” She pointed behind to the vanity.</p><p>“’S the only drawer in the room, ducks.”</p><p>It was underneath the—the thing. That rag was. It was underneath it. And she had no choice but to touch the thing in order to retrieve the rag. Because she wasn’t about to give Jamie the satisfaction of wilting over a—a—sexual contraption. Supplementary appendage. Whatever it was called.</p><p>“You wanna try it?”</p><p>Dani whirled around. “What?”</p><p>“You’re starin’ at it hard enough to bore holes. Head’s gonna catch fire with all those questions sparkin’ up there.”</p><p>“I’m not—” Dani lips betrayed her, curling at the corners. She rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. What is it?”</p><p>“Think you already know. Think that’s why you turned that flatterin’ shade of red—”</p><p>“Obviously I know it’s—I mean, I can <em>see </em>that it’s—” damn her flaming cheeks, “that it’s used for—well, that it’s shaped like a—like a—”</p><p>“Oi. Breathe, yeah?” Jamie had stopped cleaning the saddle and leaned back against the ledge, arms crossed, watching Dani flounder.</p><p>Dani made a face. “You’re enjoying this.”</p><p>“I am, yeah, that’s correct.”</p><p>“Well I’m not. I know there are more things that I don’t know than things I do, I know I’m—” she gestured vaguely, “stupidly inexperienced—”</p><p>At that, Jamie laughed. “Nothin’ stupid about you. As for inexperienced—” she cocked her head, “everyone is, til they’re not anymore.”</p><p>Dani raised a shoulder. “I’m sure it’s tedious. Being—being with someone who’s never done any of this before.” The girl with the red hair at the Drifter’s Market probably knew exactly how to use that thing in the drawer.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were wide and there was something that looked a lot like mirth in her smile. “I, um. I wouldn’t call it tedious.” She uncrossed her arms, leaned down on her thighs and peered up at Dani. “At all, actually. Bit of the opposite, if I’m honest.”</p><p>“Oh.” Dani nodded, and then Jamie’s words sunk in. “Really? You—you like helping me learn?”</p><p>Jamie let out a low laugh. “<em>Helping you learn.</em> Christ.” She glanced at the floor, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “Not exactly charity work, is it?”</p><p>“I suppose not. I mean, in Cottonwood the Ladies Charity knits for the needy, so. It’s different.”</p><p>“Right,” Jamie was nodding. Her eyes flicked to Dani’s. “Blankets?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“The knitting.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, socks, shawls, blankets. Iowa winters are frigid. I made ten sweaters in December alone one year.”</p><p>“Yeah? Decent sort, you are.”</p><p>“It—” Had been the winter after Viola. The first Christmas as Edmund’s unwilling wife, imprisoned in his house, shackled to his side. Dani had spent that winter sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with a white-knuckled grip on her knitting needles, fingers flying, yarn unspooling at a frantic pace. Edmund had called for the doctor twice. Some of the councilmen had come by to pray over her but even then she hadn’t stopped—she’d finished an entire sleeve while they were praying. “I, um. I don’t knit anymore.”</p><p>Jamie hummed as if she understood completely, and they waited there in silence for a minute. Then they both spoke at once.</p><p>“Sorry—” Dani gestured for Jamie to go on.</p><p>“No, I—was just gonna suggest we finish up wipin’ down the saddles and then maybe a swim?”</p><p>“Yes,” Dani said, far too brightly and far too quickly and Jamie was eyeing her suspiciously.</p><p>“What were you gonna say? Before?”</p><p>Suddenly Dani was finding it impossible to look Jamie in the eye. She looked at the wall, the floor, the bed.</p><p>But Jamie knew, she always seemed to know, and with a little laugh and a soft <em>alright </em>she padded over and retrieved the thing from the drawer.</p><p>“How ‘bout we do this,” Jamie said, holding it up in Dani’s periphery, and Dani’s eyes slid to it once before a surge of embarrassment had her looking away, “I’ll show you, because you’re curious—”</p><p>“I’m not cur—”</p><p>Jamie’s sharp look cut her off. “I’ll show you how it goes on, what it looks like. But you don’t need to do anythin’ with it, you can stay over there if you like.”</p><p>She was curious. She really was. And there was absolutely no doubt that this was the one and only time in her life where this sort of opportunity would present itself. If she didn’t have this question answered she would likely walk around wondering for the rest of her life and where would that get her? Nowhere, that’s where. Not to mention frustrated and regretful for not being braver. It was just a silly looking leather…thing. She could stand there while Jamie put it on, no harm in that.</p><p>Dani gave a little nod. “If you want to put it on I—I won’t stop you.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyebrows crept up her forehead, a smile cracking across her face. “That’s truly generous of you. Cheers.”</p><p>It happened quickly—Jamie, toeing off her boots, sliding out of her trousers. Strapping herself into the thing. There seemed to be multiple belts and ties and all sorts of clasps to hold it in place.</p><p>Once it was on, Jamie stood a fair distance in front of her and arched an eyebrow. “Take your fill.”</p><p>Dani looked at her, slightly alarmed.</p><p>Jamie rolled her eyes, smirking. “Feast your eyes, is that better?”</p><p>Dani swallowed and looked. It was even more disturbing to see it on her. More fascinating, too.</p><p>“And it works just like—” Dani glanced at her.</p><p>Jamie pursed her lips and nodded.</p><p>Dani looked her up and down and then burst out laughing. The whole thing was altogether rather hilarious. “It’s, um. It’s a unique look. Especially with the—” Dani pointed at her head.</p><p>Jamie smiled and touched the brim of her hat before crossing her arms. “So,” she said, “final thoughts before I take the bloody thing off?”</p><p>“It—it looks ridiculous.”</p><p>“Yep.” She started to undo one of the belts.</p><p>“But—” Dani was curious. She bit her lip and met Jamie’s gaze. “Is it—I just—you said you would show me everything, and. I don’t know, maybe…”</p><p>“Maybe…? Maybe…you want to try it?”</p><p>“No!" Dani shook her head frantically, then stopped. Sighed. She was in the middle of the desert down below the earth in a cave. If she couldn’t be honest with herself here, then where? “But if <em>you </em>want to, I wouldn’t…be opposed.”</p><p>She expected Jamie to laugh. To smile at her with that arrogant smirk and say something teasing like <em>not curious at all, are you? </em>But Jamie was always surprising her. Instead she just moved one of the saddles off the bed and nudged her head, inviting Dani over with a soft <em>can always change your mind, we’ll go slow</em>.</p><p>Dani walked around to meet Jamie on the side of the bed, and Jamie was looking at her with warmth and something dangerously close to affection but then Dani glanced down and saw the leather thing sticking out beneath her shirt and—“How am I supposed to take you seriously with that on?”</p><p>“Get your trousers off and I guarantee you’ll start—”</p><p>Dani eyed the thing skeptically. “It’s—this is strange—”</p><p>Jamie laughed. “We don’t have to. Honestly, we don’t.”</p><p>But Dani knew that. And that was why she wanted to.</p><p>True to her word, Jamie started slow. Dani’s clothes came off and she eased back on the bed, Jamie following, hovering over her. Moving Dani’s legs so she could sit between them, close but not invading. She leaned down to kiss her, Dani thought, but then she stopped, her lips mere inches away, and instead she brought her hand Dani’s mouth. Slid two fingers between her lips. Instinctively Dani ran her tongue against the calloused pads, watching Jamie’s eyes flutter.</p><p>Jamie pulled her fingers out slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Dani’s as she brought them down between Dani’s legs.</p><p>She started with small strokes, light and teasing as she watched for Dani’s reactions, reading them the way she always seemed to. It felt good, it always felt good, but Dani couldn’t relax, she couldn’t focus, she couldn’t think about anything other than the <em>thing </em>at the juncture of Jamie’s thighs. And what she was about to do with it.</p><p>Jamie swirled a finger around her clit, and Dani’s eyes slid shut.</p><p>“Jamie?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Could you—this is nice, but could you just do it?”</p><p>All movement ceased, and after a moment Dani opened her eyes, lifted her head to look at Jamie, who was just sitting there with a smile on her face.</p><p>“Got a process here, a way of doin’ things,” Jamie said, “tryin’ to be gentle and sweet—”</p><p>“No, I know, that’s—thank you, that’s kind, but I’m just—”</p><p>“Keen to be railed?”</p><p>“<em>Nervous</em>,” Dani said, sending her a scolding look. <em>Railed. </em>Jesus.</p><p>“Right,” Jamie said. “Right. Hang on—” She got up and returned a second later with the mortar and pestle. “Gotta make it slick, like.”</p><p>“Make what—oh.” She watched with fascination as Jamie dipped her fingers in the pestle, coating them with oil and then running her hand up and down the leather.</p><p>She caught Dani watching and made a show of it, pumping her hips, sliding the thing through her hand. She tossed the pestle away and when she looked back her eyes were darker. She moved to hover over Dani again, bracing her weight on one hand by Dani’s shoulder, while the other moved down to position herself.</p><p>Dani swallowed when she felt the tip of the thing nudging, sliding up and down her slit.</p><p>“Tell me,” Jamie whispered, raspy and breathless, “if you don’t like it.”</p><p>Dani could only nod.</p><p>And then Jamie pushed in. Barely an inch at first, and Dani gasped, a harsh sound in the echoing chamber.</p><p>“Alright?” Jamie looked concerned.</p><p>“Keep going.” It didn’t hurt, it was just…strange.</p><p>Jamie slid farther, deeper and deeper until her hips were flushed with the tops of Dani’s inner thighs and their eyes met, a smile flashing between them. Just then Jamie gave an experimental thrust—just a soft push of her hips—and a sudden surge of pleasure had Dani’s body clenching.</p><p>”Oh—“ she whispered, and Jamie’s smile could have cut glass. </p><p>Another thrust had Dani scrambling to grab hold of Jamie’s shoulders, then her hips, hanging on as the thrusts picked up. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“God,” Jamie breathed, finding a rhythm and watching Dani’s eyes as she fucked her.</p><p>And if Dani wasn’t so incredibly delirious with joy then she might’ve cried because <em>this </em>was how it was supposed to feel, she was certain of it—full and warm and erotic and nothing like Edmund’s hostile stabbing that never stopped feeling like an invasion no matter how many times he inflicted it on her.</p><p>Jamie shifted, glanced over her shoulder and then turned back with a delighted look on her face.</p><p>“Have an idea,” she said, and then she was pulling out, slow and careful, dropping a kiss on Dani’s lips before spinning away.</p><p>Dani sat up and the sight before her was every bit as comical as it was obscene. Jamie, sitting astride a saddle in the middle of the bed, hat still on and fully dressed from the waist up.</p><p>“You’re not serious—”</p><p>“Why not?” Jamie shrugged.</p><p>“Because—why? When we have a perfectly good bed—”</p><p>“Why use the bed when we have a perfectly good saddle?”</p><p>Dani considered it. <em>Try everythin’ once, that’s my philosophy, </em>Jamie had said. “How would we…?”</p><p>“Come here,” Jamie said, all warmth and fondness and impossible to refuse. “Like this, yeah? Wait, before you climb on, turn round.” She swirled a finger in the air and Dani eyed her suspiciously before turning. “Kneel up,” Jamie said, a hand on Dani’s hip.</p><p>She did, and Jamie shifted below her and then—</p><p>“Just settle down on it, like,” Jamie said, her voice even raspier than before. “Christ—take your time, it’s not—” She giggled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”</p><p>The thing was, it didn’t hurt. It felt good. It felt incredible. Dani was biting her lip as she sat down, farther and farther, letting Jamie slide into her. When the entire thing was sheathed inside of her again she choked down a moan and glanced over her shoulder, finding Jamie’s grin with her own.</p><p>“Proud of yourself, are you?” Jamie pinched her waist and Dani smacked her hand.</p><p>“A little bit.”</p><p>“Good. Should be.” She slid a hand up Dani’s back, tracing up her spine, ghosting over the cuts that were already healed enough to no longer merit bandaging—Dani wasn’t convinced that the salve Jamie had given her hadn’t been under the spell of some dark magic.</p><p>Dani shivered when Jamie’s hand reached the back of her neck, grasping it. And then Jamie started to move her hips. Softly at first, as if testing.</p><p><em>Fuck. </em>“It’s—” Dani’s breath hitched.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>A frantic nod, and then she was scrambling to spread her knees wider, holding onto the front of the saddle with both hands.</p><p>Jamie braced one hand on the back of the saddle and then she was thrusting in earnest, hard pulses resulting in loud slaps of skin against skin and it wasn’t a foreign sound, Dani had heard that sound a hundred times in the darkness of her room with Edmund, but back then she’d experienced it distantly, as if she’d merely been an observer, as if she hadn’t been a part of its cause. Now she was hearing that exact same sound, faster and louder as Jamie began slamming into her with ferocity, as if with new ears. With an entirely different set of senses, it seemed. The smack of Jamie’s thighs tingling against her skin, the labored breaths dragging in her ears like fingers trailing through wet heat. She stayed present, doing this with Jamie. Like they were experiencing it together, rather than separately. <em>That’s the point</em>, she realized suddenly. <em>That’s what you’ve been missing. </em></p><p>The epiphany settled low in her stomach and urged her forward, as if she was unexpectedly ready to test that theory, to see how far she could take it. She found that she could move her own hips, relax her legs to meet Jamie thrust for thrust.</p><p>The thing was hitting a spot deep inside of her and it was like stoking a fire, sparks and embers coming to life. The chamber, always musky and damp, was beginning to smell more and more like sweat and something else. An earthy smell that Dani was beginning to associate with Jamie and the arrangement.</p><p>Jamie hissed and shifted, and then her thrusts were coming from a slightly different angle, slick and sweetly stinging.</p><p>“<em>God—</em>" Dani’s head fell forward.</p><p>“Yeah? ‘S good?”</p><p>More frantic nodding. She couldn’t conjure words.</p><p>“You look fuckin’ incredible doin’ this—fuck—”</p><p>Those words in that voice. Dani felt herself inch closer to the edge. Then she thought of something. “But—it doesn’t feel good for you?” She’d just realized.</p><p>Jamie’s voice was nearly aggressive, “Fuckin’ trust me, it does.”</p><p>Suddenly she was grabbing Dani’s hips with both hands and fucking into her with abandon, making little sounds and uttering curses like it really did feel good.</p><p>The idea that Jamie was getting pleasure from it did something to Dani and soon she was writhing down, swiveling her hips and pushing back when Jamie pushed up. Her hair was loose and the next time she arched up she happened to shovel her hand through it, meaning only to push it out of her face but when she did it Jamie practically growled, her fingers clenching with bruising force. Dani smiled to herself. And then she tilted her head so that all her hair slid to one side, and slowly, she ran a hand through it again.</p><p>“Think you’re bein’ clever,” Jamie managed through labored breaths, “but I know what you’re doin’.”</p><p>“But is it working?”</p><p>“Fuckin’ right, it is.”</p><p>A hard thrust at the wrong time threw Dani off balance and she fell forward to correct it, Jamie holding fast to her hips to keep her from toppling. It had them both giggling, and when Dani heard the bright sound behind her she looked over her shoulder and grinned, half sheepish at nearly being unseated and half thrilled at the warmth in Jamie’s smile.</p><p>For days Dani had known there’d been something akin to an oil slick between them, just waiting for a spark, but this was new and entirely unexpected. The laughter. The idea that they could laugh together doing <em>this </em>filled Dani’s chest to bursting, but then it popped like she’d been pricked with a sharp pin because it was all rather sad. She liked Jamie. She shouldn’t, but she did. Jamie was all rough edges and high fences and sharp wit and scowling softness and Dani liked her quite a lot, actually, she was realizing. They could have been friends.</p><p><em>Another lifetime. </em>The words echoed through her like a rock dropped into the hot spring below, the sound reverberating over and over as the ripples spread out and out and out until the surface had smoothed. Things always did that with time. Flattened out and healed over. Just like the cuts across her back would mend and scar and fade, so too would this sudden feeling of despair. The growing feeling she’d had for days now—that the world wasn’t as simple as black and white and good and evil and outlaws and housewives, and perhaps it was possible to be kidnapped and rescued at the same exact time.</p><p>But the ripples of it would fade with time. Years and years, perhaps. But there would come a day when the surface had smoothed and it would be like Jamie had never been there at all.</p><p>Suddenly Jamie’s hand snaked around to touch her. She slid her fingers through, gathering the wet that was spilling from her, rubbing then slowly circling.</p><p>Dani’s legs were getting tired, starting to burn, and she leaned forward, holding onto the front of the saddle with both hands and <em>God </em>that changed everything—the angle was perfect and Jamie’s fingers were circling faster and somehow she hadn’t lost the rhythm of her thrusts.</p><p>Dani couldn’t hold back a choked cry when Jamie pushed into her and paused, grinding herself there, tapping a finger directly on Dani’s bud. Dani glanced back at her and another undignified cry slipped from her mouth because Jamie looked absolutely wrecked, her eyes wild, her lips red and parted, her face flushed and sweating. She looked like she was starving and gorging herself, desperate to eat her fill.  </p><p>Jamie met her eyes. “So good at this, you’re so fuckin’—Christ—”</p><p>“Feels good when it’s you—” <em>and not Edmund.</em></p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Dani let her head fall forward on a nod. “I want—” She didn’t know, she had no idea, she just knew she was close and she wanted <em>something</em>.</p><p>“What? Tell me what you need—”</p><p>“Harder?” But when she said it out loud she realized that <em>yes</em>, that was exactly what she needed so she said it again. “I want—I want it harder—”</p><p>Jamie made a noise bordering on primal as she shifted onto her knees, apparently for better leverage because the next minute she was pounding up into Dani, pushing her forward with a hand on her spine, the other still busy between Dani’s legs.</p><p>“Oh <em>fuck</em>.” The words slipped from Dani on their own.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jamie was breathless, practically panting, “I like hearin’ you—”</p><p>“It’s—<em>God</em>, it’s—” <em>So good. </em>Her entire body was brimming and humming.</p><p>“Like it when I fuck you this way? Takin’ you from behind like this?”</p><p>“<em>Jamie</em>—”</p><p>“You were fuckin’ made to be fucked like this—”</p><p>“I’m gonna—"</p><p>“Yeah? Gonna come for me like this?”</p><p>She was, and with a long whine and a desperate grind onto Jamie’s fingers she did. It was like every sensation in her body exploded, the way her orgasm rocked through her. She was coming from Jamie’s fingers but also from the thing inside of her, both pulsing centers working in tandem and the last thing she felt before her mind went blank was Jamie’s teeth biting down by her waist and a rush of wet heat spilling out down her thighs.</p><p>She came to a moment later, her legs shaking like mad, too ruined to object when Jamie helped her sit up, offered her water from a nearby canteen.</p><p>When the tremors in her legs had somewhat subsided she reached out for Jamie, who was being patient and gentle but whose eyes were still dark and needing.</p><p>But Jamie stopped her with a hand to her sternum and Dani looked up to find Jamie’s eyes heavy-lidded. </p><p>“Do somethin’ for me?”</p><p>Dani was already nodding because yes, most likely anything.</p><p>Jamie took her hand from Dani’s sternum and wrapped it around the appendage. </p><p>“Wanna see your mouth on it.”</p><p>Dani blinked at her, the request taking a moment to process. “The—?”</p><p>Jamie nodded.</p><p>“Oh.” <em>Oh.</em> </p><p>Jamie knelt up in the saddle as Dani lowered herself on all fours. Jamie was pulling the thing away from herself, angling the blunt tip toward Dani’s mouth. </p><p>Dani gave it an experimental lick and above her, Jamie hissed. It tasted like leather and oil and something tangy and thick. Her, she realized. She was tasting herself.</p><p>Jamie seemed to realize it too, or maybe that had been the point all along, and when she moaned Dani looked up at her to see her eyes slide shut, her hand reaching out to curl around Dani’s neck. Gently urging her down.</p><p>Dani filled her mouth with it, as far as she could stand. Jamie’s grip on her neck was loose, not holding her there but encouraging. Dani slid back up to take a breath, letting the leather slide against her tongue, looking up at Jamie through her lashes and sliding her mouth back down.</p><p>“Fuck.” Jamie pumped her hips, just enough that Dani felt it. “Lick it—use your tongue—“</p><p>Dani did, and Jamie made a raw noise in the back of her throat. It was incredible, the way Jamie was watching her, dazed and frantic all at once. </p><p>When Dani pulled back again Jamie wrapped her hand around the thing and slid it to the end, twisting it around the tip before gripping it and positioning it just inside Dani’s mouth. </p><p>Instead of closing her lips around it Dani kept her mouth open for a moment, letting Jamie watch it glide along her tongue.</p><p>Jamie’s laugh was soft and dark. “Christ, woman. Could fuckin’ come to this alone.”</p><p>Dani flashed her a grin and then suddenly Jamie was tearing at the belts of the contraption, yanking it down her thighs and it was all too easy for Dani to reach out and stroke her, slide her fingers through the soaked mess between her legs.</p><p>Dani stilled her hand and looked up at her. “Can I…?” She didn’t know how to finish the question, how to put it into words that she wanted to taste Jamie, take her with her mouth the way Jamie had taken her countless times already. Instead of voicing it she simply leaned forward, an awkward task when they were both kneeling, facing one another. But she trailed open kisses down Jamie’s stomach, mouthing over her dark curls, her intention clear.</p><p>Suddenly Jamie’s hand was curling behind her neck again, not encouraging her on her path but urging her back up instead.</p><p>Jamie met Dani’s questioning look with a small shake of her head. “Don’t have to do that.”</p><p>“I want to.” She started downward again and Jamie’s hand tightened at her neck.</p><p>“Just use your fingers.”</p><p>“But—” She didn’t understand. Jamie’s mouth had been a fucking epiphany and she wanted to give that back to her but there was a strange look on Jamie’s face that had Dani nodding, quieting.</p><p>And instead Dani moved to stroke through Jamie’s slick center, relishing the small gasps Jamie made when Dani found that she could fit her bud in the vee of two fingers, sliding them back and forth, pushing and pulling and teasing.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie whispered. She was already close, all shaking legs and tight breaths.</p><p>Dani was watching her hand slide between Jamie’s legs, watching the tendons of her own forearm ripple under the skin of her wrist as her fingers worked and worked inside of her.</p><p>“Look at me,” Jamie’s voice was a soft husk and her hand was suddenly cradling Dani’s jaw, her thumb rubbing at her lip. “Fuck<em>, </em>you have a pretty mouth.” She slid her thumb in, nostrils flaring when Dani bit down on it. “Christ, you make me fuckin’—"</p><p>She came, brow furrowed and eyes desperately searching Dani’s. And it was strange, but Dani swore she felt an echo of it in her own center. A pulse of heat. A surge and a clench. Like grasping for something already pulled out of reach.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They lay there recovering, side by side, stretched out and each with a leg flung over the saddle.</p><p>Dani was inspecting the thing. Jamie was watching her, amused.</p><p>There were marks on the leather, Dani was just noticing, and it caught her off guard to realize they were from somebody’s teeth. Somebody else’s teeth.</p><p>“Not the first one to have the honor, apparently,” Dani said, pointing out the marks. She ignored a stab of jealousy that had absolutely no right to rear its irrational head. “Someone went in for quite a bite.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jamie said, “the fuckin’ goat.”</p><p>That was...not what she’d been expecting. </p><p>“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t fuckin’ offer it to him! He got into the caves, wreaked havoc, ate half my garden. Left the poisonous plants well alone, go figure. Would’ve served him right to die horribly and alone.” </p><p>Dani made a noncommittal hum, back to examining the thing. “What is it called?”</p><p>Jamie shrugged and her shoulder rubbed against Dani’s. “Not sure there’s a name for it.”</p><p>“Doom Stick,” Dani said with a nod. “That’s what I’d call it.”</p><p>“Bit ominous, that.”</p><p>“Well,” Dani poked her in the stomach with it, hard.</p><p>“Ouch—Jesus!” Jamie laughed and wrenched it away, smacking Dani’s hand with it before tossing it across the room. “I’d call it Cave Dweller.”</p><p>“That’s—that’s gross, though.”</p><p>“Deep Diver.”</p><p>“No—”</p><p>“Tunnel Taker.”</p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>“Gorge Grabber.”</p><p>“Does that even make sense?”</p><p>“I don’t know, does it?” Jamie’s face was ridiculous, her quirked brow theatrically suggestive.</p><p>Suddenly Dani pointed at her. “Hole Pole.”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were huge and then she was laughing. “Reckon that’s it. That’s the one.”</p><p> </p><p>Eventually their laughter faded and the silence swelled, and they were comfortable like that for a long while. Content to just lay there listening to the sound of the nearby waterfall.</p><p>“What else?” Jamie’s voice cut into the peace, hushed and lazy.</p><p>Dani blinked. “What?”</p><p>“What else do you want to do?” Jamie shifted to look at her. “Somethin’ you couldn’t back in Utopia.”</p><p>Dani snorted. “Hardly Utopia.”</p><p>“There must be more though—”</p><p>And there was, of course there was. There was everything, an entire world full of wants and wishes.</p><p>“I rather think I’d like to get drunk.”</p><p>A beat passed and then Jamie sat up to look down at her. “Drunk?”</p><p>Dani shrugged.</p><p>“Seem to recall you tellin’ me you rather feel a knife in your back than swallow whiskey.”</p><p>“Does it have to be whiskey?”</p><p>“No, no, you’re right,” Jamie looked contrite, “I’ll have Peter bring you down to the wine cellar and you can select from our finest.”</p><p>Dani smirked. She was starting to get to know her, this maddening woman. Starting to see the layers beneath, and this unexpectedly playful side was the most thrilling facet yet. “I’m afraid this will cost you when I review for the papers. ‘Bly—a cozy retreat once you overcome the sun poisoning, yet sorely lacking in all manner of hospitality, whiskey being the only swill on offer’.”</p><p>“You’d ruin us, no question.” She sighed. “Drunk, huh?” She eyed Dani. “Right. See what we can do about that.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>~*~</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next evening Dani came back to the saloon after another failed attempt at a firearms lesson feeling mildly dejected.</p><p>She’d wasted half of Jamie’s ammunition, never having hit the target.</p><p>“Jesus,” Jamie had whistled after a while. “Honestly you’re the reason <em>other </em>people need guns.”</p><p>Dani had tried then—really, she had—holding her arm steady, staring down the bullseye. She fired, only to be thrown to the ground a second later by Jamie as the bullet richocheted off a nearby rock, pinging off to who knows where.</p><p>“Fuckin’ menace,” Jamie had said, hauling her to her feet. “Gonna get you a knife. A good, old-fashioned knife. No more guns.” She’d gingerly taken the revolver from Dani, shaking her head.</p><p>Jamie had disappeared in the direction of the stables once they’d gotten back, and Dani wandered back to the saloon, heading upstairs and finding her lavender skirt—the one she’d been kidnapped in—stretched out across her bed. It wasn’t perfect—there were still several light marks, a small tear where she’d fallen and tore her knee. But someone had clearly worked to clean it. To repair it.</p><p>Flora appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Mrs. O’Mara,” she said, a sly grin on her face, “Jamie would like to invite you for an evening on the ridge.”</p><p>“A romantic evening,” Miles giggled from somewhere down the hall, and Flora hushed him, giggling all the while.</p><p>“Did Jamie—” Dani glanced at the bed. “Did Jamie do this?” She gestured to the skirt.</p><p>Flora was nodding. “It took quite a bit of effort, actually. She’s been trying to fix it for days.”</p><p>“Why?” Dani asked, disbelieving.</p><p>Flora shrugged. “Because it’s yours.” She started down the hall, turning once to call back over her shoulder. “Meet her at the gate, and wear the skirt!”</p><p>“She—she told you she wants me to wear the skirt?”</p><p>“No,” Flora grinned, “but I’m fairly certain she was thinking it.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jamie had dragged a blanket up onto the ridge overlooking Bly, and packed a basket with cakes and a jug of whiskey.</p><p>“Best place to get drunk,” she said, “is under the stars.”</p><p>But for a long while they lay there, counting constellations and talking softly.</p><p>“Thank you,” Dani said at one point, “for fixing my skirt.”</p><p>Jamie smiled. “Shouldn’t thank me for fixin’ what I ruined in the first place.”</p><p>Dani nudged her shoulder with her own. “All the same. Thank you.” Then, a thought occurred to her. “What do <em>you </em>want?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“If we’re fulfilling wishes.” She gestured to the stars. The whiskey, still waiting to be poured.</p><p>“Christ, what a question.” Jamie shook her head. “Want Flora’s cough to go away. Want Miles to be a child, like. A real child, without the world on his shoulders. Want Peter to find a friend, someone like him, different, you know? Think that would be good for him. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone.”</p><p>A beat passed.</p><p>“But what do <em>you</em> want?” Dani asked.</p><p>Jamie was silent for a long time.</p><p>Then, finally, “The ocean.”</p><p>Dani hadn’t expected that. </p><p>“Grew up on the wharf, filthy, thought I never wanted to see the ocean again. But that wasn’t the ocean, it was a sewer and I was too daft to see beyond it. To the rolling sea. I hated it there but the saltwater gets in your blood, like. Calls you back. And I miss it. I miss the sea. Homesick for it, I reckon.” Her laugh was soft. “First time I’m sayin’ that out loud.”</p><p>Dani rolled onto her back and sighed. “I can’t give you the ocean.” </p><p>“Don’t need to give me anythin’.” </p><p>“But I’d like to. I wish I could bring you the ocean. You never stop thinking about Peter and the children and for once someone should think of you.”</p><p>Jamie was quiet for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was cautious. “I’m—I’m sorry I took you from that train. Was wrong. Cruel. Shouldn’t be anyone’s prisoner.”</p><p>Dani smiled at her with a slight shake of her head. “Cottonwood. Bly. Promise. What’s the difference? I’m always going to be somebody’s prisoner.”</p><p>“‘S not funny.”</p><p>“No, but it’s true.”</p><p>“It’s fuckin’ wrong is what it is, and your father—“ Jamie seemed to catch herself.</p><p>“My father?” Dani waited but she was quiet. “What about my father?”</p><p>But Jamie just shook her head. “I really am sorry. For takin' you.”</p><p>A quiet beat passed. “Do you wish that you hadn’t?”</p><p>Their eyes met then, but Jamie didn’t answer. After a while she turned back to face the stars.</p><p>“How am I supposed to go back after all of this,” Dani gestured between them, keeping her tone playful and hoping Jamie wouldn’t sense the honest urgency beneath. </p><p>“To borin’ sex? That what you’re askin’?”</p><p>“To any of it.”</p><p>Jamie sighed. “Is he bad to you? Your husband?”</p><p>Dani shook her head slowly. “He’s not violent, if that’s what you mean.”</p><p>Jamie nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.</p><p>“He isn’t much of anything.” Dani lifted her hand, positioning it until the moon appeared to balance on the pad of her thumb. </p><p>“There’s ways to get out of it,” Jamie said suddenly. “You could leave him if you were keen. Plenty of new towns poppin’ up in the territories, reckon most of them need a good teacher. Could support yourself.”</p><p>It wasn’t fair, Jamie saying that as though it were the solution. As if it were easy. She was made of the stuff that granted her the grit to cross an ocean, and Dani was made of something else. Something softer that could be carried away on the breeze. Something that needed to be tethered.</p><p>She shrugged. “Alone in a new town. Sounds lonely.”</p><p>“Life is lonely.”</p><p>“Easy for you to say, you’ve got an entire family down there. Two children who adore you.”</p><p>The slow shake of Jamie’s head was almost imperceptible. “Not forever I don’t.”</p><p>“Why?” Dani looked at her. “You think the bad people will—“</p><p>“Because everyone leaves in the end. Everyone. Sooner you accept that you’re on this wreck of a planet alone the sooner you can get on makin’ the best of it.”</p><p>But Dani refused to believe that. “The children won’t leave you and neither will Peter. They love you and—“</p><p>“They will.” Jamie was staring up at the stars, her jaw tense. “And they should. I brought them over here to set them free. That’s what they are—free. They don’t owe me a fuckin’ thing.”</p><p>“But—that’s not,” Dani sat up a bit, “that isn’t what family is, it’s not about owing anyone anything, it’s about being there for each other by choice, because they matter enough that you choose them again and again—“</p><p>“That’s just it though.” Jamie’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “When someone matters enough the decent thing to do is set them free.”</p><p>Dani lay back down. “I disagree.”</p><p>“Which is why you’ll never do it. You’ll never leave him.”</p><p>Dani wanted to be annoyed. To argue. She could do it if she wanted to, she could leave, she just didn’t know if there was a point. In a world where seeking happiness brought the wrath of an entire town upon her, maybe it was just easier to dream. </p><p>“I could more easily circumnavigate the globe barefoot than matter enough to Edmund for him to set me free—“ </p><p>“He’s an idiot, but that’s not what I meant.” Jamie’s eyes flicked to hers. “If you mattered to yourself. Set yourself free.”</p><p>There was a distance in her voice, the way one might halfheartedly point out a signpost or a landmark to a wayward traveler. She wasn’t offering a thing more than passing encouragement. And if Dani took her advice she’d suffer the fallout on her own. Jamie was an outlaw, Dani was her victim, and they’d never be friends. She’d blindfolded her that day, so long ago and only just last week, so that she wouldn’t know where Bly was. <em>Don’t want you comin’ back.</em></p><p>So instead of saying something pathetic like <em>but couldn’t you use a good teacher in Bly</em> or something even worse like <em>I rather lay down on the train tracks than go back to him</em>, she settled for the familiar. For common ground.</p><p>“It doesn’t feel the same with him.”</p><p>“What doesn’t?”</p><p>Dani just turned to her, arching an eyebrow.</p><p>Jamie glanced at her and then smirked at the stars. “Sayin’ I’m better at it?”</p><p>“I’m saying I’m going to spend a lot of my nights in Promise frustrated.”</p><p>Jamie suddenly frowned. “Do you...?” She glanced at Dani.</p><p>“Do I what?”</p><p>Arched brow. Smirk. </p><p>Dani shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re—“</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie chuckled. “Do you touch yourself, like? Get yourself off.”</p><p>Oh. “That’s—“ Dani’s cheeks grew warm “That’s rather personal.”</p><p>“I’ve had my tongue all the way inside you, reckon we can skip the blushin’ maiden shite.”</p><p>“I have. Before. In the past.”</p><p>“Right. Good, so when you’re bored as fuck in Promise—“</p><p>“But it was never as good.” <em>As you.</em></p><p>Jamie sat up, rearranging the blanket and the basket, gesturing for Dani to come and sit with her back against the rock.</p><p>Dani just stared.  </p><p>“Come here,” Jamie said, a little smile on her lips. </p><p>“Why?” The thing was, Dani thought she knew why. Her heart was taking up a frantic staccato in her chest because she knew where this was headed and it was a revelation that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted it, even. So she went and sat where Jamie wanted her.</p><p>“Reckon it’s never gonna be as good as the real thing, but there’s ways to make it better,” Jamie said, casually as taking note of the weather. “When you do it do you take your time with it?”</p><p>“I—I don’t—I—“ Dani sputtered because it was entirely bizarre, this particular line of inquiry and her cheeks were on fire because people didn’t talk about this. But apparently Jamie did.</p><p>“Simple question. Either you do it all bashful and secret like or you take your time and really get yourself goin’, make yourself—“</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t know, alright?” Her voice was nearly shrill. “I—“ She sighed and looked away. “I suppose I never thought to enjoy it. It seemed...perfunctory.” </p><p>“Right, that’s fine, no shame in that, but for future reference, I’ll show you how I go about—“</p><p>“Show me?!” But she’d known, she’d known already where it was headed.</p><p>Jamie was nodding. “Unless you object,” she said, and as she did she reached over into the basket, pulling out a pewter tumbler and the jug of whiskey she’d packed, “I’m goin’ to touch myself and I’m goin’ to talk you through it. Pass on a trick or two.” She uncorked the jug with her molars and poured Dani a generous drink. Handed her the cup. “Then, maybe nights in Promise will be a little less frustratin’, yeah?”</p><p>But Dani couldn’t speak.</p><p>Jamie smirked at her. “Back to blushin’, are we?”</p><p>“It just seems—why on earth would you want to—“ Dani chose to ignore the way Jamie’s smile spread wider, huffing instead and finishing with, “It just seems the sort of thing that’s common sense.”</p><p>“Alright,” Jamie shrugged, retying her trousers, “if you don’t want my help.”</p><p>But that wasn’t...Dani didn’t exactly not want her help. She was just surprised, that’s all. Caught off guard. She’d never thought about it before. But...now that she was thinking about it...</p><p>“If you want to show me I—I won’t stop you—if you want—“</p><p>Jamie crossed her arms, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Say it.”</p><p>Dani blinked at her. “Say what?”</p><p>“Say you want to watch me touchin’ myself. Admit it out loud or I won’t do it.”</p><p>Dani stared at her, slack-mouthed and unsure of how to proceed because now that she’d pictured it—Jamie, doing that to herself right there in front of her—she rather thought she might actually die if Jamie didn’t see it through. </p><p>“I’m not going to say it.”</p><p>“That’s fine, your choice.” She finished tying her trousers back in place. </p><p>“It’s too—it’s too crass.” Dani bit her lip.</p><p>“Like I said, ‘s fine. We’ll just sit here and sip our whiskey and—oh look, a fallin’ star! Good luck, that. There’ll be more, clear night like this—“ She swiveled her head around, peering this way and that at the sky, either ignoring or ignorant of Dani’s scowl. “We could—"</p><p>“I want to watch you touch yourself.” She took a gulp of whiskey, forcing it down her throat, pushing through the pain of it, the urge to retch. She wiped her mouth. “The—the touching thing. Please. I want that. To watch. If. If that’s okay.”</p><p>Jamie was watching her, head cocked to one side. Then she shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Just needed to ask nicely is all.” Her mouth curled at the corner but then she was untying her trousers, shoving them down unabashedly, sliding a leg out so they were caught around a single ankle. She nudged Dani’s legs out straight and shuffled forward until she was kneeling over her, straddling Dani’s thighs, and Dani was finding it altogether impossible to breathe. She set the cup aside. Her fingers were trembling.</p><p>“So to start,” Jamie said, bright and businesslike and snapping Dani out of it for a split second because it was incredible how Jamie could remain wholly unfazed, “probably best to make sure you have time. Make sure no ones goin’ to interrupt, yeah?”</p><p>Dani swallowed and nodded, her eyes on Jamie’s hands. One was holding her shirttails out of the way and the other...the other was ghosting across her toned stomach, trailing down toward her curls. </p><p>“Then—and this bit is important—you need to have a picture in your mind. A story but—but a dirty one, a fantasy, like. Somethin’ you want, somethin’ secret that gets you so wet you can’t keep from fuckin’ yourself—“</p><p><em>Like this?</em> Because this. This. This was the only thing Dani would ever be able to think about ever again. She wanted to say so, but her verbal acuity had lifted out of her body around the same time as her soul. </p><p>“And then,” Jamie said, a little less businesslike, a little more affected, “you start. But slow—start slow—“ Her fingers trailed down and down but then she glanced at Dani and pulled her hand away from herself, touching Dani’s lips with two fingers, sliding them in when she opened. </p><p>Dani ran her tongue up and down, swirled and sucked on her calloused pads and watched as Jamie’s eyes narrowed, a little breathy huff escaping her parted lips. </p><p>When she slid her fingers out of Dani’s mouth she did it slowly, leaving a shining trail from Dani’s mouth to her chin. </p><p>And then she started. Slowly at first, just like she’d said. She wasn’t shy about it, Dani hadn’t expected her to be, but it was thrilling to see how free she was, how unafraid to gasp at her own touch and push her hips into her own hand.</p><p>“Not a race,” she muttered, “so take your time. Find what feels good.”</p><p>Dani nodded dumbly even though Jamie couldn’t see her—her eyes were on her own hand disappearing and reappearing between her legs and Dani was quite possibly going to catch fire.</p><p>Jamie moaned, soft and low, and there were other noises now—wet and slick in rhythm with Jamie’s hips and Dani couldn’t sit idly by for a single moment longer.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” She asked. She needed to know. She needed to be a part of it. </p><p>Jamie’s head tipped back, her face to the stars, but Dani didn’t miss it when she smiled.</p><p>“Thinkin’ about you.”</p><p><em>Fuck.</em> “What—what about me?”</p><p>“Imaginin’ you in my bed, only this time I’m the one down there,” she gestured to where Dani was seated below her, “and you’re the one straddlin’ me.” Her head fell forward and her brow creased, watching as she did something to herself that had her fingers disappearing as she ground down into the heel of her hand. “Would want to taste you like that. Lowerin’ yourself down onto my lips, pushing yourself against my tongue.” Her eyes were closed again and Dani never wanted to forget the look on her face in that moment—concentration and pleasure and joy and something that looked almost like pain. “Think about that all the goddamn time—what you’d look like, what you’d sound like when you’re fuckin’ my mouth like you can’t come fast enough, like you can’t sink your clit down deep enough, ridin’ my face like you’re desperate for it, like you don’t give a fuck if you drown me so long as you fuckin’ come—“</p><p>“Jamie—“</p><p>“Too much?”</p><p>“No—no don’t stop.“ But it was too much just not in the way Jamie thought, and she needed to do something before she lost her mind.</p><p>Jamie knew without even looking at her. With one hand still between her legs she reached down and grabbed at Dani’s skirt, rucking it up past her knees, past her thighs. </p><p>“Do it,” Jamie choked out on a groan, “fuckin’ do it and don’t be quiet.”</p><p>She didn’t hesitate. She was sopping and desperate and the whole thing would’ve been humiliating if it weren’t for the fact that they were both in a similar state, thrumming with the static between them, staring at what the other was doing until soon they were moving their hands in sync.</p><p>“Tell me what you’ll think about,” Jamie’s voice was unraveling at the edges, “when you do this what will you—“ Her words cut off into a frenzied moan and Dani could’ve cried at the beauty of the sound.</p><p>“This,” she said softly. Honestly. “I’ll think about this every day—“</p><p>“Want that—want you to remember—“</p><p>“I won’t forget—I told you I won’t forget—“</p><p>“Want you to remember the good parts and not—“</p><p>It put a hairline fracture in Dani’s heart, what  Jamie was saying. </p><p>“It was all good, all of it—“</p><p>“No—“ Jamie was shaking her head even as her fingers picked up their pace, running frantic circles around her swollen bud, “never should’ve taken you—“</p><p>“I’m glad you did,” the words flew out of her mouth and Dani was too reckless with ecstasy to care, “I’m glad for this, for what we’re doing—“</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie ground the word out, and then the rest came like a confession, “I wanted you—the first night I fuckin’ wanted you—dreamed about fuckin’ you—“</p><p>“I wanted—I wanted you too—”</p><p>“Christ—” Her fingers were a blur. “Look at me—”</p><p>Dani did and it nearly broke her, the way Jamie was watching her.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie breathed, “I’m gonna—look at me, don’t fuckin’ look away—” and Dani wouldn’t, Dani would never, “I wanna see you—you’re so fuckin’—God, fuck—wanna see your face when I come—”</p><p>“Fuck, Jamie—”</p><p>It was the way Jamie was looking at her that did it. That sent Dani’s body into spasm, her orgasm sweeping through her like the tide, soaking and spilling into her own hand. Jamie followed, awestruck and cursing at Dani’s display, her brow creased and her mouth open and her eyes never leaving Dani’s, not once.</p><p>It occurred to Dani that Jamie hadn’t actually taught her anything she hadn’t already known. The whole activity was rather self-explanatory, after all. But she’d given her a fantasy. It had been the filthiest thing Dani had ever seen, ever experienced, ever actively and eagerly and wholeheartedly participated in, and it would fuel her every thought for years to come. Which, she suddenly realized, was exactly why Jamie had done it. </p><p>They fell back onto the blanket, panting and breathless, and long moments later Dani tipped the cup of whiskey onto the dry ground beside them. She could get drunk another night. Not tonight. This was a night she needed to remember.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>~*~</p>
</div><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Dani dreamed that night she dreamed of ships. Ships on a wharf far away, tethered to a slippery dock slick with rainwater, bobbing and nodding on the tide beneath a slate sky. She dreamed she was a child, lines on her hand from the ruler, too many questions, too distracted, eyes wide open during prayers. A bell was ringing from one of the ships, brightly pealing, ropes tugged aboard, anchors raised, setting sail.</p><p>There was a girl, older but not by much, dark curls and darker smile, leaning over the rail, arm outstretched and begging Dani to come with her. <em>Where?</em> Dani asked. <em>Away,</em> she said,<em>hurry!</em> But there was another ship setting out, polished decks and white sails and there was her father, proud and crisp with his silver hair and his sharp nose and he was smiling at her, hand outstretched just like the girl’s. <em>Come away from there, Danielle,</em> he said. <em>The only place that ship is bound for is the ocean’s bottom—see it’s broken masts? See it’s patched hull?</em> He shook his head, chuckling. <em>That ship will sink, and you, Danielle, have never been strong enough to swim.</em> <em>You’ll never find your milk and honey if you go willingly to your doom</em>. The girl called out again. <em>Come with us,</em> she said, more urgently now. <em>You’ll die, Danielle,</em> her father said. But the girl said, <em>Dani,</em> <em>you’ll live. </em>And Dani looked between them and she didn’t know who to trust, she didn’t know where either ship was going and perhaps the dock was the safest place to be. She watched the ships drift out, watched the wind catch in their sails, watched her father and the girl growing smaller and smaller still.</p><p>The wharf was empty then, the two ships distant specks on the horizon, pale and floating farther and farther away. They’d gone on without her and the sun was low and the night came quick and she stood there on that harbor and watched and waited for them to return. <em>Come back</em>, she cried, <em>I’ll choose, I promise I’ll choose. </em>But they were gone and it was only the moon that heard her, its light reflecting on the waves below, watery ghost ships that passed idly without thought or notice of the girl watching them. The girl who’d been too scared to leave the shore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay in posting! Also, the ao3 community has somehow turned me into someone who does things online...I now have a Tumblr and tbh I'm not exactly sure what that means for me...also I'm not exactly sure what a Tumblr even is or what I'll contribute on there though I assure it will be minimal. So if this shining star of an advertisement has convinced you, feel free to say hey over there:</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://n0tmyname.tumblr.com/">n0tmyname</a></p><p> </p><p> <br/>Now: </p><p>Firstly, to Raginage, thank you for suggesting a certain saddle scene long before this story was anything more than an idea. You are a queen and if I die before finishing this then I leave this story to you.</p><p>Also to Bluesact who brilliantly requested a scene where clothes come off but the cowboy hat stays on. 👌🏻</p><p>Lastly, all of you reading this--this is a blast and it's all thanks to you guys. The enthusiasm is incredible and I thank you all. Looking at you, Paula. And you, Betty. And all of you. </p><p> </p><p>PS HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY LONDO!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Brief instance of implied child abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>M:</strong>
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  <strong>Tomorrow’s the day. Will be quieter round here without her. The children will be climbing the walls without their lessons to keep them busy. Will take about six months before Peter stops asking for her. Take about a day for him to drive me round the bend with it. Rations are low again and they shouldn’t be. Reckon that’s what I deserve. Steal a person, wind up with another mouth to feed. </strong>
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  <strong>Want my advice, don’t kidnap people. Easier ways to make a few quid, I reckon. More trouble than it’s worth.</strong>
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  <strong>-J</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Dani’s time at Bly had begun at a slow crawl, hours drawn out into days and days spanning entire seasons, it seemed. But somewhere along the way things had changed. Now, it was like someone had flicked the hands of the clock, spinning them around at a blur until hours sped by in the space of a moment. Blink and the sun was rising, glance away and it was setting again.</p><p>Dani had grown accustomed to waking in Jamie’s bed. She’d also grown accustomed to rolling over to find that she was alone—most mornings Jamie was already gone, off to survey from the water tower. She’d grown used to the wide stretch of untouched blanket between them—a part of the arrangement that hadn’t been discussed but seemed to be mutually understood all the same. Every night, after their racing hearts and frantic breaths and desperate touches had boiled over and cooled, they would retreat to opposite sides of the bed with little more than a whispered goodnight.</p><p>And Dani would lay there wide awake, listening as Jamie’s breaths slowed and deepened, and she’d wonder if this was how Edmund had felt—if he’d longed to hold her afterward until they both fell asleep, if he’d ached with the emptiness of it when she would roll away and make herself small, invisible if she could have, on the far side of their bed. Maybe Jamie’s disinterest was some sort of cosmic retribution. The world simply balancing the scales. She would lay there listening to Jamie’s breaths and every night it was inevitable—just before she’d fall asleep she’d realize that her own lungs had slowed to keep pace, mirroring Jamie’s breaths as if Dani’s body knew something that her head was determined to ignore.</p><p>Then all too soon the day would dawn, golden light streaming in, brightening the pillow and warming Dani’s face and she’d shrink away from it, burrow back under the covers.</p><p>Another night gone, another day closer to the end.</p><p>Time was smoke and the harder Dani tried to grab hold of it the faster it disappeared. And then one morning she woke up and the sky was hazier, the morning quieter. It was Friday, she realized as the grogginess faded.</p><p>It was Friday, and it was her last day in Bly.</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>“Tonight isn’t<em> just</em> a dinner party, Mrs. O’Mara,” Flora corrected her over a shared breakfast of cornbread and sweet porridge. They had the saloon to themselves while Jamie and the boys were busy fitting the jam jar lights outside with fresh candles.</p><p>“What is it then?” Dani asked, taking a bite of cornbread. It was delicious this way—a little sweeter than she was used to, baked over an open flame. She knew she’d never eat cornbread again without longing for this particular version of it. The kind they made in Bly.</p><p>“Well, there <em>is</em> food—Owen is a perfectly divine cook, but it’s so much more than a feast because there’s music and dancing and a bonfire and we get to stay up all night, as long as we can stand it,” Flora said excitedly, nibbling on her own piece of bread. “I suppose it’s rather like a shindig.”</p><p>“A shindig?”</p><p>“That’s what Owen calls it anyway,” Flora smiled. “Have you ever been to a shindig before, Mrs. O’Mara?”</p><p>Dani smiled. “I can’t say that I have.”</p><p>“I’m certain it’s just the same as the parties back where you’re from,” Flora said, her tone adorably reassuring, as if concerned that Dani might be nervous at the prospect of an unfamiliar event, “it’s just the name that’s different.”</p><p>“Actually,” Dani said, glancing out the window for effect before leaning forward to whisper, “do you want to know a secret?”</p><p>Flora nodded furiously.</p><p>“We didn’t have parties where I’m from.”</p><p>Flora was flabbergasted. “Not <em>any</em>?”</p><p>Dani shook her head. “No music, no dancing. It was all against the law.”</p><p>“Against the law?” Flora looked stunned.   </p><p>Dani nodded, pursing her lips.</p><p>Flora closed her eyes and shook her head like she could scarcely believe it. “I think that’s perfectly detestable.” She reached for her tea, lifted it to her mouth and then suddenly slammed the pewter mug back on the table, sloshing the drink over her little fingers as she stared at Dani in abject horror. “Mrs. O’Mara—” she gaped and Dani waited, “have you—have you never heard music before?”</p><p>“I’ve heard music,” Dani smiled. “There was a choir at my father’s church, I started singing in it when I was little. Smaller than you, even.”</p><p>“That sounds perfectly lovely,” Flora said, now wiping her fingers on her trousers and licking up the tea drips on her mug like a little goblin. “Music is my favorite,” she said. “I play the tambourine, which is a rather simple instrument, but Owen has promised to teach me the banjo one day.”</p><p>“Well, I look forward to hearing you play.”</p><p>Flora grinned.</p><p>“We weren’t allowed instruments in Cottonwood either,” Dani said after a moment, catching another one of Flora’s horrified looks with a smile, “but one summer, when I was young, there was a traveling theatre troupe that came through. There was a field that backed up to the Cottonwood city limit,” Dani said, drawing a rectangle on the table with her finger to give the general idea, “traveling caravans would pass through the nearby town with all sorts of wonders, and they’d always set up in that field. Magicians and artisans and storytellers. We weren’t supposed to interact with any of it, but one summer I did. I snuck out and saw a piece of theatre.”</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara!” Flora looked scandalized and delighted.</p><p>“There was a little girl about my age who had moved to town that year, she and her family were just passing through, but I became friends with her. She was, um,” Dani thought about how to say it, “like Peter. Different.”</p><p>Flora nodded, understanding.</p><p>“And she was fascinated by the lights and sounds coming from that field. I couldn’t think of one good reason for us not to go, so we did.”</p><p>“And did she like it? The theatre?”</p><p>“She loved it. We both did. She didn’t speak—ever, actually, she wasn’t able to—but I could tell just fine. Her face lit up and she sat stone still in the grass beside me during the entire production. From the time the little orchestra began until the moment the curtain fell.”</p><p>“What was it about, this play?”</p><p>Dani thought about it. “You know, I don’t even remember.” All Dani could remember was the sharp realization that her friend, who couldn’t sit still and quiet during sermons or lessons or any other time, was suddenly frozen in place, fixated, silent and riveted by the stage before her. It had felt important, that realization. Almost as if somewhere, cloaked in that discovery itself, was the real reason such things were forbidden in Cottonwood. It had planted a seed in Dani. A seed that sprouted into a question, its roots embedding themselves, twining and inextricable. When it came to the church: was the outside world really evil, or was it competition?</p><p>“I saw a piece of theatre like that once,” Flora said, dunking her cornbread into her tea and accidentally dropping the entire thing in with a <em>plop.</em></p><p>“You performed a piece of theatre like that,” Dani grinned. “And one day you will again, when Miles finally finishes his play.”</p><p>But Flora was shaking her head as she scooped out soggy bits of cornbread with a cupped hand and slurped them into her mouth. “I don’t mean like Bloom Town,” she said. “It was a long time ago, maybe as long as a year, I can’t remember exactly. But it was a traveling theatre troupe, just like the one in Cottonball.”</p><p>Dani smiled. “Jamie took you to see a performance?”</p><p>“Not exactly,” Flora said. “It was when the Drifter’s was raided.”</p><p>Jamie had mentioned that. The summer prior the Drifter’s Market had been raided, several outlaws had been captured and brought back to the surrounding towns to be hung. The market was shut down for months and they’d had to survive by rationing food and supplies. When they began to run out they’d spent several weeks on the brink of starvation.</p><p><em>That must have been terrifying for the children,</em> Dani had said when Jamie told her the story. <em>They didn’t know how bad off we were,</em> Jamie had said, <em>I just ate less and pretended to be stuffed come dinner. As it happens, horse feed isn’t so bad if you pair it with whiskey. </em>She’d said it so casually, like anybody would’ve done the same.</p><p>“Owen and Hannah brought word that there was a traveling troupe giving out food and things, a bit like a charity, I suppose. So we packed up and off we went. It really was quite a spectacular adventure, they had a great tent and hundreds of people. It all felt a bit like the circus, only I’ve never been to the circus, so perhaps it wasn’t like that at all.”</p><p>“And this charity also had theatrics?”</p><p>Flora nodded. “Only—” she cocked her head, thinking about it, “it was odd.”</p><p>“Odd?”</p><p>“Their plays were all a bit like Peter’s book.” She gestured at Dani when she said it. “They were Bible plays, I suppose.”</p><p>“I’m not certain I would’ve enjoyed that,” Dani admitted. “Certainly not as much as I enjoyed your production with Miles.”</p><p>Flora beamed, then tipped her head back to finish off her tea. She set the mug back down and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Jamie didn’t enjoy it either. She was fretfully moody the entire time we were there and the ride back was perfectly dreadful, Mrs. O’Mara, it took days and days and the entire time she behaved like an absolute horror.”</p><p>Without meaning to Dani had leaned in, resting her chin on her hand, positively delighted to hear Flora’s tattling.</p><p>“And <em>then</em>,” Flora was really getting incensed now, “she had the nerve to tell Miles off for being cheeky and she blamed <em>us </em>for her foul mood when we all knew perfectly well it wasn’t because of us, it was because of the man in the tent. The bird man with the black cloak—oh, hello Jamie!”</p><p>Dani turned. Jamie was standing in the saloon’s doorway.</p><p>“If you’re done eatin’ Miles could use your help movin’ the instruments up from the cellar, petal,” she pointed back over her shoulder.<br/>“Oh, yes!” Flora was up in a flash, rushing to the door.</p><p>“Oi!” Jamie stopped her before she could clomp down the saloon’s front steps. “Don’t recall gettin’ my good mornin’ from you yet.”</p><p>Dani watched through the open door as Flora grinned and wrapped Jamie in a hug, mumbling <em>good morning </em>into Jamie’s stomach before hurrying on her way.</p><p>“Everythin’ alright in here?” Jamie was eyeing Dani cautiously, the way she seemed to every morning when they inevitably ran into each other in the harsh light of day.</p><p>“Everything’s great,” Dani said, feeling that same thick smile sliding across her face. The one that seemed to be a side effect of Jamie’s proximity. The one that probably made her look like the village idiot.</p><p>“Great, is it?” Jamie meandered inside, coming to lean down on Flora’s empty chair.</p><p><em>God.</em> That curl at the corner of her lips. Had Dani ever really found it infuriating?</p><p>“Mmhmm.” Dani bit her lip, and then, just like that, Jamie’s eyes were on her mouth. <em>So easy.</em></p><p>Jamie made her way around the table, all confidence and swagger. “Gonna dance with me at the party tonight?”</p><p>“Shindig.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>Dani raised a shoulder. “Maybe.”</p><p>Jamie had come to stand right beside Dani, her arms crossed as she looked down at her. “Maybe, huh?”</p><p>“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.”</p><p>With one arm on the back of Dani’s chair and the other on the table Jamie leaned down until she was inches away from Dani’s face. “Not really the patient sort.”</p><p>“Then this will be good practice,” Dani said, smiling innocently.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were sparkling as she leaned closer, pausing to grin just before she met Dani’s lips.</p><p>“Got them!” Flora shouted gleefully, flying through the doorway with Miles at her heels.</p><p>“Christ.” Jamie flew back. “That was fast.” She went over to help the children set up an area for the instruments in the corner, away from the freshly swept saloon floor which would be left wide open for dancing.</p><p>“Is that a fiddle?” Dani asked.</p><p>Jamie was tightening the knobs at the end of the instrument, rubbing at a spot on its polished wood. “Violin.”</p><p>“Who plays the violin?”</p><p>But Jamie just shrugged and flashed a grin. “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.”</p><p>Jamie turned her attention to Flora, who was concerned about a ding she’d found in the top of her tambourine. At one point Jamie looked back once and caught Dani watching her.</p><p>Instead of quickly looking away as she’d always done before Dani just kept on staring, letting a lazy smile curl the corners of her mouth.</p><p>Jamie smiled back, poking her tongue out the side of her mouth and sending Dani a quick wink before turning back to the children and it was really rather fortunate, Jamie being distracted with Miles and Flora, because Dani was pretty sure that wink had just rendered her into a puddle. Melty and useless and <em>fuck</em>, she wasn’t supposed to feel this way.</p><p>It had been a dream of hers, moving out of Iowa and starting over in a new school with students who weren’t all offspring of her father’s congregation. The idea of pursuing that dream in Promise, a brand new city overlooking the Pacific Ocean, had been the nearest thing to an answered prayer that Dani had ever known. So how, in two short weeks, had everything changed? How had she lost sight of herself?</p><p><em>You’ve lost nothing,</em> the familiar voice came from the dark cluttered corner of her mind, <em>but you’ve found everything. </em>Dani had always known that little voice to offer wisdom when she most needed it, but now it was merely taunting her, spewing cruel words that could do little more than poison her from within. Spread through her like a disease.</p><p>Because what possible conclusion could any of it come to? Was she supposed to throw herself at Jamie? Dash her pride and beg her captor to keep her? Live her life in the desert alongside outlaws? Edmund would come after her—Jamie had written him a ransom note, he knew who had taken his wife. And Dani’s heart sunk as she realized—even if Jamie <em>did </em>want her to stay, it would only endanger them further. JT London was wanted for murder, there were likely posters all over the cities and towns, east to west. If Dani stayed it would inevitably lead Edmund and whatever forces he employed right to Bly’s front gate. And Dani wouldn’t do that to Jamie. To any of them.</p><p>There would be no happy ending for them. Happy endings only ever existed in books and plays. In theatrics set on the stage. Illusions meant to delight and distract from life and its cold truths. That, at least, was something Cottonwood did right—the sparseness of it, the colorlessness, the rigidity. The joylessness of it had spared Dani the pain of hoping for more.</p><p>But now she’d had more, and maybe, she realized, maybe that <em>was </em>her happy ending. Or rather, maybe it was more about happy moments, brief bright spots that made the dark stretches worth weathering.</p><p>There was still the shindig. There was still one more night. There were still moments to be happy. And she would savor them, even as they slipped like silk from her grasp.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Miles, Flora and Peter spent the day on the water tower, taking turns peering into the telescope until finally, in the late afternoon, Miles let out a loud cheer and screamed <em>they’re here! </em>loud enough to be heard across the whole of the Utah territory.</p><p>Owen and Hannah pulled into the center of Bly riding atop a rickety wood cart pulled by twin brown horses.</p><p>Dani watched from her own room upstairs as Peter and the children rushed to greet them, Miles helping Owen unbridle the horses, leading them to the stable while Flora and Peter helped Hannah unpack the cart—it seemed they’d brought a feast along with them. Dani smiled as Flora pulled a banjo from the back of the cart, holding it before her reverently and taking great care to walk gently, bringing the instrument into the saloon.</p><p>A moment later Dani heard Flora’s light pattering on the stairs and then there was a small fist knocking on her door.</p><p>“Peter’s gone to fetch Jamie from the caves,” Flora said, jittery with excitement, “are you nearly ready, Mrs. O’Mara?”</p><p>Dani pulled the door open. Flora was standing there in a dark red shirt with black suspenders clipped onto a pair of starched trousers. She’d drawn a curling moustache over her lip—it looked quite a lot like Owen’s, which made Dani smile. Flora positively worshipped the man. She was also wearing a top hat—the same one Dani had seen on Owen’s head when they’d first pulled up. But before Dani could compliment her dapper appearance the little girl was letting out a gasp, covering her mouth with both of her hands.</p><p>“You,” Flora said, jutting both arms out to gesture dramatically at Dani, “look perfectly <em>divine.</em>”</p><p>Dani looked down at herself for the hundredth time since putting on the dress. She winced, glancing at Flora. “I still think it’s too much.” Actually, the problem was that it was too little. Less fabric than Dani had ever worn in public.</p><p>“Not at all,” Flora said, and there was a sly look on her face, a sneaky grin beyond her years as if she’d known exactly what she was doing when she’d pulled the dress out for Dani that afternoon.</p><p>It had started when Jamie had taken off to get ready in the caves. <em>Keep my nicer trappin’s down there,</em> she’d explained to Dani, nodding at Peter and the children, <em>away from this lot and their dirty hands</em>.</p><p>When she’d gone, Dani had bathed and dressed in the simple blue dress that Jamie had given her after her first bath. Flora had run into her in the hallway and begged to be allowed to curl Dani’s hair—<em>please, Mrs. O’Mara, it would be a perfectly silly waste of your glorious hair to let it sit dull and flat the way you always do.</em></p><p>Dani hadn’t pointed out that they <em>all </em>had hair that sat relatively dull and flat with the desert heat and the dry air. All except Jamie, whose curls didn’t seem to care one lick about the air and never failed to stay perfectly coiffed. Which was annoying, frankly.</p><p>In the end Dani had let Flora wind sections of her hair around strips of rag, finishing with a smile, hands on her little hips as she’d nodded and said, “Now, what shall we dress you in?”</p><p>She’d been horrified when Dani told her she was planning to wear the blue dress. <em>Again? </em>Flora had asked, shaking her head. She wasn’t having it.</p><p>“As we’ve said, there are plenty of clothes to choose from in the back closet,” Flora had said, leading Dani down the hall by the hand, “and you simply must—OH!” She’d turned to look at Dani with an expression of elated cunning. “The black dress.” And with that she’d dragged Dani to the closet with remarkable strength and urgency.</p><p>“It was on display in the window of the haberdashery when we first came to Bly,” Flora had explained as she rifled through the overstuffed closet, “I wanted Jamie to try it on because I just <em>know </em>it will look perfectly splendid on someone, but she was obstinate as usual and refused. Aha!” She’d located the dress and pulled it out, holding it up for Dani to see. It was yards and yards of shiny black silk with a cinched bodice, seemingly of an even lower cut than the dress she was already wearing. In lieu of sleeves there were merely two swipes of black lace that would drape from her upper arms, leaving entirely too much of her exposed.</p><p>“Flora, I don’t know if—"</p><p>“Please, Mrs. O’Mara! You’ll wear it, won’t you?” Flora had asked with such an eagerly hopeful expression that Dani had no choice but to agree. And if the others looked even slightly scandalized by her minimalistic attire she would blame it on Flora and run upstairs to change.</p><p>Now that she was actually wearing it she was one breath away from taking it off—the silk bodice hugged her in a way that left nothing to the imagination, and without hoops the skirt did little to hide her lower half either.</p><p>Flora unwound the bits of rag, fluffing Dani’s hair when the last piece of rag was gone and delighting at the way it bounced.</p><p>“One more thing!” Flora shouted, running from the room before Dani could stop her and returning a moment later with a little leather bag. She pulled out a small clay pot and when she dipped her finger in the tip came back covered in a sticky red substance.</p><p>She was smearing it across Dani’s lower lip before Dani could protest, dabbing some onto Dani’s cheeks as well.</p><p>“Is that—” Dani made a face at her, “is it <em>makeup</em>?”</p><p>“Of course,” Flora said simply. “Don’t you want to look your best?”</p><p>Dani had never worn makeup before so she didn’t actually know if it <em>would </em>make her look her best. If it would enhance her appearance or leave her looking like one of the women for sale at the Drifter’s Market.</p><p>Flora showed her how to smack her lips together to smear the color, and then she took another little pot from the bag, followed by piece of coal.</p><p>Flora looked at her, seeming to consider her eyes.</p><p>Dani shook her head. “That’s Jamie’s thing—the coal eyes—”</p><p>“And we’ve all tried telling her it gives her the appearance of a deranged sea pirate, but there’s nothing for her stubbornness, Mrs. O’Mara, believe me,” Flora said. “This isn’t for drawing rings around your eyes,” she held up the coal and the little pot, “watch.” She crushed some coal against the window ledge, leaving a black smudge, and then she collected the black dust on her palm, mixing it with a dab of the clear waxy substance from the pot. When she’d finished she fished out the tiniest brush Dani had ever seen from the leather bag, dipping it in the black goop she’d just created. “Look up,” she instructed, and when Dani did—trusting her, for some godforsaken reason—the little girl brushed the strange tar directly onto Dani’s eyelashes.</p><p>When she was all finished she regarded Dani with a jubilant squeal, then raced off to find a small mirror, returning with it a moment later.</p><p>Dani looked at herself. She looked and looked. She couldn’t recognize the woman staring back. But then Flora giggled and the sound made Dani smile and <em>ah</em>—there she was. Her smile was still familiar, if somehow wider here in Bly.</p><p>“Are you sure it isn’t too much?” Dani asked, pausing at the top of the stairs, the hustle and bustle of the others and their guests busy in the saloon below.</p><p>“I suppose that depends,” Flora looked at her with a little shrug, “if it bothers you when Jamie stares then perhaps you should go and change.” And with that she clattered down the stairs, leaving Dani to stare after her, warmth creeping into her now overly-rouged cheeks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dani descended the steps slowly. Hannah, in a lovely burgundy dress, was polishing a large silver platter on the bar. Owen, in crisp trousers and a brown vest and bowtie, was seated in the corner tuning his banjo while Peter watched. Miles was playing with Flora’s tambourine—something Flora rushed to put a stop to as soon as she noticed. Everyone had dressed for the occasion—even Miles and Peter were wearing their very best, and Dani let her shoulders relax. Maybe no one would even notice the dress. And hair. And makeup.</p><p>“Dani!” Hannah noticed her first, and Dani went to the bar to give the woman a hug. “My goodness,” Hannah said, her hands on Dani’s shoulders, taking her in, “you put the rest of us to shame, look at you!”</p><p>“No, no it’s—” Dani shook her head, “Flora wanted to put—it was Flora’s idea, the red lips and everything.”</p><p>“You look beautiful,” Hannah said with a soft smile.</p><p>“So do you!” Dani suddenly gushed, because the woman looked downright imperial with her dark dress and golden bangles.</p><p>Hannah waved the compliment away with a hand before smiling at Owen who was on his way over to say hello.</p><p>Jamie walked in, eyeing the hunk of meat she was carrying at the end of a skewer. “Owen, reckon this needs to roast a bit longer? Can’t tell if it’s—fuck.” She’d spotted Dani and she’d frozen in place. “Sorry, no—fuck, that’s not what—sorry.” She blinked, coming back to herself. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Then she turned and walked back out the door, taking the skewer with her.</p><p>While everyone else stared after Jamie in utter confusion, Flora caught Dani’s eyes from across the way and sent her a pointed look, full of <em>I told you so.</em></p><p>“Is it still pink round the middle?” Owen shouted after her.</p><p>Jamie appeared again. “What’s that?”</p><p>“The—” Owen was eyeing her like she’d lost her mind, “the roast, Jamie. The skewer.”</p><p>“Right, no, I—” she seemed to search the porch wildly, “I just had it—” Something just out of view clattered noisily on the wood. “Got it. I have it. It’s—” Jamie hurried across the saloon, bringing Owen the skewer, “it’s here.”</p><p>Owen inspected it and decided it needed another minute or so on the spit they’d erected over the firepit out front. Jamie nodded and hurried back out the door, her eyes on the floor the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>The evening progressed as the sun dipped lower, and Jamie, for the most part, was endeavoring a marked effort to make herself scarce. She had claimed a need to stay outside and <em>monitor</em> the roast when Miles invited her in for a game of whist (played properly it was a rather amusing game, and Dani was surprised to learn that she had quite the competitive streak). Then Jamie insisted on carving the roast outside, by herself, while Dani and the others set up a buffet of sorts on the bar’s counter.</p><p>It was a veritable feast—beans and cornbread, biscuits and dried fruits, and the roast. <em>Antelope</em>, Owen announced proudly, drizzling a marinade over top—something spicy and smoky and tangy that he seemed eager for everyone to try.</p><p>Finally, when they’d all filled their plates and gone to sit at the singular table they’d left up in the far corner by the window, Hannah took one look at the remaining empty chair and shook her head, standing and marching to the open door.</p><p>“Jamie Taylor,” her hands went to her hips, “what’s the point of asking your friends to a party if you’re going to sulk outside and ignore them?”</p><p>“Not sulkin’,” came a reply from somewhere by the fire, “just mindin’ the flames.”</p><p>“Let the flames mind themselves and come inside,” Hannah said, “quickly now, our food is getting cold.”</p><p>Dani smirked down at her plate because it was pure joy, seeing Jamie bossed around.</p><p>Jamie took her sweet time coming in, and then she took even longer to fill her own plate. Finally she meandered over, kicking out a chair across from Dani and sinking into it. Her eyes flickered up, just once, meeting Dani’s before quickly looking away, reaching for the bowl of fresh butter that Owen and Hannah had brought.</p><p>Dani smirked again. Jamie was nervous. Nervous because of <em>her</em>, no less, and Dani couldn’t remember a time she’d felt more thrilled.</p><p>“So Dani,” Owen started, “Miles tells me you have him writing a play?”</p><p>“Actually, the entire thing was Miles’ idea!” Dani sent the boy a smile and she could’ve sworn she saw him blush.</p><p>“Is that so? Well, when will we be able to purchase our tickets?” Owen asked him. “I expect front row center, I’ll pay a premium if need be.”</p><p>Hannah winked at Owen and smiled at Miles. “I haven’t seen a good piece of theatre in far too long, I’m very much looking forward to your play.”</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara wasn’t allowed the theatre in Cottonball,” Flora announced through a stuffed mouth, a bit of antelope sauce dripping from the corner of her mouth.</p><p>“’S Cottonwood,” Jamie muttered, but only Dani seemed to hear her.</p><p>“It was a strict town,” Dani shrugged to the rest of the table.</p><p>“Parties and music were against the law too,” Flora said in a tone clearly meant to shock and horrify their guests.</p><p>It was strange to be embarrassed, it wasn’t Dani’s fault she’d been born in Cottonwood. But there was nothing to be done for the flush that was already creeping up her neck.</p><p>“Enough, petal,” Jamie chided.</p><p>Flora looked at her. “But Mrs. O’Mara told me herself that they weren’t even allowed to—”</p><p>Jamie sent her a look. “Enough.”</p><p>“The tea tastes old,” Miles said, spitting a sip back into his cup.</p><p>“Is old,” Jamie said. “Tryin’ to ration the water. No use wastin’.”</p><p>Miles scowled but took another sip, forcing it down. Hannah was watching him but then she looked at Jamie.</p><p>“Are you low?” Hannah asked. “Is it—?”</p><p>Jamie stuck out her lower lip, nonchalant. Pretending, Dani could tell. “’S fine. If the rains come soon there’ll be plenty—”</p><p>“But—Jamie, if they don’t—?” Hannah shook her head, concerned.</p><p>“They will,” Flora said brightly. “The Kuttuhsippeh called down the rains just last week, and we joined them. It was perfectly splendid.” She beamed.</p><p>Hannah smiled at her. “I’ll send my prayers up alongside theirs then,” she said softly, casting one last worried glance in Jamie’s direction.</p><p>Dani looked at Jamie too. She hadn’t known. Hadn’t known they were low on water.</p><p>Owen took a sip of tea and dabbed at his moustache. “Water you going to do if you run out?” He asked it with such sincerity that it took a moment for smiles to crack around the table.</p><p>Hannah sighed and took his hand atop the table. “My husband,” she shook her head, sending Dani an apologetic look, “never fails to find humor in calamity. Thinks he’s clever, he does.”</p><p>“Oh,” Owen said, “I don’t drought it.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Later, when they’d cleared the table and readied the dance floor (<em>one last sweep</em>, Flora had insisted, <em>boots sound nicer on a clean floor</em>), Jamie still hadn’t looked at her. Not properly, anyway. She’d glanced. She’d glanced a lot, actually. But only when she thought Dani wasn’t able to see. And it was ridiculous, because, Dani had only now realized—Jamie looked just as tempting. Dark brown trousers and a white buttoned shirt, undone at the top to reveal a vee of skin. Leather suspenders—thicker than her usual ones, darker too. Shiny, as if she’d polished them. She’d certainly polished her boots. Flora’s too. <em>Just wait, Mrs. O’Mara, </em>Flora had said, <em>I can play an entire song with just my boots.</em></p><p>Dani hadn’t been quite certain how to respond to that, she couldn’t imagine what that might entail, but it looked like she was about to find out. Flora was sliding on her boots and picking up her tambourine. Owen was sitting down with his banjo. And to Dani’s utter shock—immediately followed by her absolute delight—Jamie was picking up the violin. Running the bow across it quickly, as if testing it for something, several errant notes springing into the air. <em>The violin</em>. Dani was staring and she didn’t even care who saw. Jamie played the violin.</p><p>Miles was suddenly beside Dani, startling her when he leaned in to whisper, “I’m not musical myself, but this is still the best bit of the evening.”</p><p>Jamie spun around on her heel to face Owen. “Bit of a warmup, Sharma?”</p><p>“If you feel you need one, Taylor.”</p><p>Jamie scrunched her nose at him, stuck out her tongue. “Straight to it then. Flora?”</p><p>“Ready!” She rattled her tambourine in the air.</p><p>“Requests?” Jamie eyed the rest of them, the non-musical cluster standing on the dance floor.</p><p>“Arkansas Traveler!” Miles shouted, making Flora cheer and sending Peter into a fit of excited giggles.</p><p>“No surprise there,” Jamie rolled her eyes and lifted her bow with a smile.</p><p>“It’s the best,” Miles said to Dani. “Flora does this thing with her boots—”</p><p>“Miles!” Flora scowled. “Let her watch.” She turned to Jamie and they stood, facing one another, while Owen sat nearby with his banjo. Jamie counted them in with several vamping strokes back and forth across the violin, eyes on Flora the entire time. And then they were off.</p><p>Peter and Miles began to dance together, hands joined and twirling, Peter laughing so hard there were tears. Hannah beamed, radiant as she watched Owen playing, clapping along to the beat. And Flora, it turned out, did indeed to a thing with her boots. It was a bit like dancing and it was a bit like keeping the beat, but it was also much more, the way she tapped out a lively staccato against the floor, twisting this way and that, using her toes and her heels to make music. It was entrancing.</p><p>And then there was Jamie. Her bow was flying over the strings, her fingers a blur at the end of the instrument. There was no hesitation, no faltering, just pure joy as she watched Flora dance, moving her own feet here and there and swaying with the lively music.</p><p>The rhythm picked up, everyone increasing their tempo at the exact same moment—they knew the song well, clearly, and Flora—never missing a beat—leaned in towards Jamie, still tapping her boots and banging her tambourine against her hip. Jamie leaned in too, and with twin grins on their faces they went back and forth with it, Jamie with the melody and Flora with the rhythm, leaning in and back, closer and closer, making each other grin and giggle.</p><p>As she clapped along it occurred to Dani that these people knew how to live. The orange sunset was streaking in across the floor and there were shadows now, shadows cast by Flora’s wild dancing, by Miles and Peter who were still spinning. By Jamie, who was twisting around having the time of her life with the sprightly tune and yet somehow maintaining an effortless air of dark and poetic. It occurred to Dani that these people were going to keep right on living when she had gone. The sun was slipping ever lower in the sky, and it would be morning as quick as blinking.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jamie finally came over to her several songs later. She’d set her violin down and headed straight for Dani, stopping once to say <em>don’t touch it, mate, </em>without even turning around. Peter retracted his outstretched hand and took several steps back, away from the violin. Dani giggled, then faced Jamie head on.</p><p>“Hi,” Jamie said.</p><p>“Who—?” Dani looked over her shoulder dramatically, “Oh, me? You’re saying hi to me? We’re talking again?”</p><p>“Come off it,” Jamie smirked at the ground. “Was surprised, is all. You look—” She shrugged and wound one of Dani’s loose curls around her finger and smiled at the way it slid through her grasp.</p><p>Dani smiled back. “You look, too.”</p><p>Jamie rolled her eyes. “Have somethin’ for you,” she said. “Can we?” She eyed the door.</p><p>Dani followed her out to the street. Around the corner of the saloon where the building cast a long shadow across the dirt. When they were hidden in the shadows Jamie pulled out a box, long and thin and tied with a black ribbon.</p><p>Dani had received a similarly wrapped gift from Edmund once, several Christmases back. It had been a necklace, a golden cross like the one Hannah wore. She didn’t like necklaces, they caught in the hairs at her nape, but Edmund had frowned the next day at her naked neck, so she’d worn it the next day and every day after.</p><p>A necklace from Jamie would still catch the hairs at her nape but it would be a necklace from Jamie and she’d wear it and put up with the painful pinching.</p><p>But it wasn’t a necklace.</p><p>“Jamie—”</p><p>“You can’t shoot for shite,” Jamie said with a grin, “and you’re in the west now, so. Here be dragons.”</p><p>Dani slid the blade from the stiff leather sheath. The blade was sharp and shining, the handle looked to be made of polished antler, painted black with a golden inlay. A swirling letter <em>D</em>.</p><p>“Where did you—”</p><p>“Drifter’s. Ordered it when we were there. Owen and Hannah brought it along, saved me a trip. There’s another piece to it back inside,” Jamie said, “a leather belt so you can strap it to your thigh, like. Have it handy.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Dani said softly. Then she grinned. “I’ll never again be bested by tiny criminals aboard a train.”</p><p>Jamie chuckled. “There’s people worse than criminals on trains. There’s puppets,” she said, suddenly serious in the way that she looked at Dani, “and there’s the people pullin’ their strings.”</p><p>It felt like she was saying something. Something else. Hinting at it. But just then Flora called for them from the saloon.</p><p>“There you are!” Flora cried when they reappeared. “I was just telling Hannah that you were in a choir back in Cottonball, and she was perfectly delighted because she loves singing too, and we were thinking you could sing for us, Mrs. O’Mara!”</p><p>Dani felt her eyes triple in size. Flora came over to take her hand, lead her over to the chair where Owen was still sitting with his banjo.</p><p>“Any song you want,” he smiled at Dani, “if I don’t know it you can just start and I’ll pick it up after a line or two.”</p><p>“A true maestro, he is,” Hannah winked.</p><p>Dani felt faint. “I don’t—” Her mouth was drier than the dirt outside. “I don’t know any songs, I only know songs from—”</p><p>“But that’s the point, Mrs. O’Mara!” Miles had joined in the persuasion. “Hannah knows God ballads too—”</p><p>“Hymns, darling,” Hannah laughed despite herself.</p><p>“What’ll it be, then?” Owen asked, and then they were all just waiting, staring at Dani expectantly.</p><p>Jamie was standing at the edge of the group, looking slightly amused but seemingly hesitant to interrupt. Perhaps she thought Dani wanted this—though how she could think such a thing Dani had no idea.</p><p>They were still waiting, and Dani was panicking. Her chest felt too tight, her cheeks felt too warm. She’d sung in the choir as a child, and never once had she sung by herself. Alone in her home, of course. Who hadn’t? But not this. Never this.</p><p>It came to her then, a sudden bolt of inspiration. A way out. She looked at Jamie, mouthing the word at first.</p><p>Jamie shook her head, narrowing her eyes.</p><p>Dani tried again, mouthing it slower.</p><p>Jamie shook her head again and cupped a hand around her ear.</p><p>Dani sighed. Bit her lip. Said it audibly this time, but it seemed Jamie had gone temporarily deaf because she was still squinting like she had no idea so Dani went ahead and said it loudly, for the entire room to hear.</p><p>“<em>Cavern!</em>”</p><p>Jamie’s eyes grew wide.</p><p>“From The Cross Unto The Cavern, excellent choice, a true classic,” Owen was saying, already strumming a chord.</p><p>“No—” Dani swallowed, “no, that’s not—” She glanced back at Jamie and found that she’d begun to laugh hard enough to spring tears. Dani shook her head at her.</p><p>“I don’t think—” Jamie was trying to speak through the bridled laughter and it sounded like she was having a fit. “Reckon she’ll sit this one out, so you lot—” a laugh burst through and she shook her head, “you lot go ahead without her.”</p><p>Hannah reached down and grasped Dani’s hand. “I’ll sing for the both of us then, shall I?”</p><p>Dani nodded gratefully.</p><p>Owen began a slow strumming, and immediately Dani recognized the tune. Her heart clenched at it, melancholy and familiar. Slow as molasses the others settled down onto the few chairs left scattered here and there by the instruments. Miles hoisted himself onto the bar top. Jamie tugged the cork from the cactus cordial Owen had brought and took a swig before passing it to Peter. And Hannah’s voice came with the next surge of notes, softly at first, but strong.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I am a poor wayfaring strange, traveling through this land of woe.<br/>And there's no sickness, toil or danger, in that bright land to which I go.<br/>I'm going home to see my father, I'm going there no more to roam.<br/>I'm just going over Jordan, I'm just going over home.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The music swelled, Owen strumming and improvising a bit, neither of them in a hurry to rush through the song. The room seemed under a spell, everyone mesmerized by the slow and lovely music. Suddenly there was a little sob and Dani looked over to see Flora, watching Owen strum the banjo while tears coursed down her cheeks.</p><p>“Alright, petal?” Jamie asked softly, and Hannah stopped singing. Owen stopped playing. Flora shook her head.</p><p>“You’re leaving us,” she said quietly, through her tears. “I just feel it. I just know.”</p><p>Jamie glanced at Dani and Dani felt compelled to go to her, to run a hand through Flora’s hair and crouch beside her.</p><p>“I was never meant to stay forever,” Dani said softly, but then Flora was shaking her head again, her little forehead worried.</p><p>“Not you, Mrs. O’Mara. Jamie.” And Flora turned to where Jamie was leaned against the wall, arms crossed and hat tilted back. “You’re going to leave us all.”</p><p>Jamie smiled at her. “Not likely. Stuck with me, you are.”</p><p>Flora looked at her a moment longer, sad and scared but for the moment, at least, seeming to accept Jamie’s reassurance. She wiped at her eyes.</p><p>“One other thing,” she said, making a sudden and rather miraculous recovery from her tears, “I’ve had a thought. Miles—it would be lovely if you added music to your play. Perhaps at the beginning, and the end, and maybe even at the good bits, when it’s dark and scary or perfectly happy. Don’t you think?”</p><p>Miles’ face was lighting up. “Music in Bloom Town,” he considered it, his grin growing wider. “Flora, it’s a capital idea!” And then he was up and off the bar top, shouting something about his journal and running upstairs for it.</p><p>It was Flora’s key, Dani realized. <em>Music. </em>Music was Flora’s key.</p><p>Owen began to strum the banjo again after Flora apologized for the <em>perfectly rude </em>interruption and begged Hannah to finish the song.</p><p>Hannah’s voice came stronger as the second verse began and it was lovely, a smooth and resonant sound, haunting and beautiful and Dani was suddenly six years old, running through the field beside her father’s church, the choir’s rehearsal drifting through the open window and carrying on the breeze.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I know dark clouds will gather round me, I know my way is rough and steep.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>But beauteous fields lie just before me, where souls redeemed their vigils keep.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'm going there to meet my mother, she said she'd meet me when I come.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I'm just going over Jordan, I'm just going over home.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dani would listen to the song as she ran, eyes closed and arms outstretched, the tall meadow grasses tickling at her arms. It spoke of adventure, the song the choir was singing. <em>I want to wear a crown of glory when I get home to that bright land. </em>And Dani would imagine it—a land of queens and crowns. A bright land where she’d be welcomed. <em>I’m just going over Jordan, I’m just going over home.</em></p><p> </p><p>Someone was holding her hand. She opened her eyes—she hadn’t realized she’d closed them—and looked down to see Hannah’s hand wrapped around her own. When Dani looked up at Hannah the woman smiled softly through her singing, leaned in and with her free hand brushed away at Dani’s tears. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying, either.</p><p>The song drifted to a close, Jamie passing the cactus cordial to Owen, Miles intercepting it and Jamie laughing and chasing him. None of them aware of Dani’s tears and Hannah’s kindness, of the moment they were sharing. Hannah reached to cup Dani’s face.</p><p>“God isn’t the enemy, sweet one,” she said softly.</p><p>Dani blinked through her tears at the golden cross dangling from a delicate chain around Hannah’s neck. She sniffled and more tears came, hot and confusing.</p><p>“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said, swiping her bare arm across her face and recognizing the black smear it left. “Oh—it’s the—Flora put coal on my—"</p><p>Hannah used her thumbs to clean the makeup from Dani’s eyes. “What do you say we take in the sunset, just the two of us?”</p><p>Dani smiled, wide and genuine because <em>yes</em>, that sounded perfect, even as more tears fell, an endless well it seemed. At the door Miles shoved the bottle of cactus cordial into her hands, apparently in the midst of a game of keep-away with Jamie and Owen and deciding it would suit just fine to smuggle it out on Dani.</p><p>“Be right back,” she said to the boy, but he didn’t seem to hear her, he was far too delighted that he’d seemingly won the little game.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah linked her arm through Dani’s as they walked. The sun was nearly gone now, just a sliver of orange at the edge of the horizon, the sky a painted riot of pink and amber.</p><p>“Jamie tells me you’re leaving them in the morning,” Hannah said.</p><p>“She—she told you that?”</p><p>Hannah nodded. “We’re staying in Bly, Owen and I. To see to the children while Jamie takes you home.”</p><p>Dani swallowed. <em>Home. </em>“I’m not,” <em>going home,</em> she wanted to say. But she barely knew Hannah. “I’m not a traveling tutor,” she said instead, realizing a moment later that it wasn’t any less honest.</p><p>“Oh, darling,” Hannah chuckled lightly, “I know that.”</p><p>Dani looked at her. “You do?” She wanted to ask what else Hannah knew, and Hannah seemed to sense the question in the air.</p><p>“I don’t know how you came to be here. Jamie was rather vague. But I trust she’s been kind to you?”</p><p>Dani nodded.</p><p>“She’s a good sort, if a bit rough at the edges.”</p><p>Dani uncorked the bottle she was holding and took a sip. She held it out in front of her. “This is—” It was a clear liquid with a slice of dragon fruit floating in the middle. It tasted like honeyed water, refreshing and incredible. “This is the best thing I’ve had since—forever,” she took another swig.</p><p>“Owen bottles it himself for the restaurant,” Hannah said proudly. “We always bring a cart full of bottles when we come to Bly, Jamie drinks it like water.”</p><p>Dani was swallowing great gulps as she nodded, and Hannah looked impressed.</p><p>“Easy to do, it’s delicious,” Dani said, pausing for a moment to breathe. It was cold, she realized. Somehow, the cactus cordial was still cold. She hadn’t had a cold drink since Iowa.</p><p>They continued up the road.</p><p>“What will you do in your husband’s new town?” Hannah asked after a stretch of comfortable silence, and Dani wondered again just how much Jamie had told her.</p><p>“I’ll teach,” Dani said.</p><p>“You don’t sound happy about it,” Hannah said.</p><p>“It’s a—” Dani glanced at her, not wanting to offend. “It’s a religious town. Like Cottonwood. My husband was sent by the church council to establish.”</p><p>Hannah was nodding. “And you don’t believe.”</p><p>Dani thought about it. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t believe in manifest destiny. That God prefers one kind of person over another.” She took another swig.</p><p>“The church was cruel to you,” Hannah said simple. It wasn’t a question.</p><p>“God’s word compelled their cruelty,” she said, taking another sip.</p><p>Hannah stopped her. Cradled her face the same way she’d done in the saloon. “If the words were used to hurt you,” she said softly, “then they didn’t come from Him.”</p><p>Dani looked at her, and it was like she could feel the woman’s kindness in her very soul. Then Dani stumbled a bit, which was odd—she hadn’t been walking.</p><p>Hannah reached for the bottle. Held it up. It was nearly gone.</p><p>“Have you drank all of this?” Hannah said, sounding alarmed.</p><p>“Is that bad? Because I was thirsty <em>a lot</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, darling,” Hannah’s hand came up to cover her mouth, “it’s alcohol, didn’t you know?”</p><p> </p><p>The next hour or so was all rather a blur. It involved music, Dani knew that. And Jamie. Which was excellent.</p><p>“Did you still wanna dance? With me? Together?” Dani had just discovered that if she squinted one eye it no longer appeared as if Jamie was three people.</p><p>“Dunno,” Jamie eyed her, “can you stand?”</p><p>Dani spread her arms wide to show her that <em>yes</em>, quite obviously she could, she was standing right then, wasn’t she? But she’d lifted her arms perhaps a bit too ardently, her hand plowing through the remaining bottles of cactus cordial on the table and sending them to the floor.</p><p>“No!” Dani shouted, because <em>how dare she hurt the cordial. </em>She bent to pick them up, standing too quickly and knocking her head into Jamie’s.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie was holding her nose.</p><p>“Oh,” Dani covered her mouth with her hands, “oh, I’ve hurt you—”</p><p>“’S fine, really, it’s—” Jamie pulled her hand away and there was blood and that was <em>terrible </em>because she’d really hurt her and what had Jamie said about injuries in the desert? Something about infection and slow death and—</p><p>“Oh! I’ve <em>killed </em>you—”</p><p>“You haven’t.”</p><p>It was reassuring to hear that, and if it was the truth then surely Jamie would understand if Dani stepped away and took a moment to spin, because her dress was really quite swishy and how was she just realizing this now—</p><p>“Fuckin’ hell, did you drink all of this?” Jamie was holding up the bottle of cordial Hannah had just handed her with a pointed look, and Dani couldn’t help but feel she’d just been tattled on.</p><p>But still, she nodded proudly. Then she had to scrunch an eye because Jamie was triplets again. “Is this drunk?”</p><p>“Reckon so, yeah,” Jamie had a disbelieving grin on her face. It was a nice grin. All white teeth and pretty lips. And Dani really thought she should know.</p><p>“It’s nice,” she said, pointing at Jamie’s face, “how it is on there. It is,” she stuck out her lower lip, narrowing her eyes and nodding in slow approval, “<em>nice</em>.”</p><p>“Think it’s bedtime, actually,” Jamie said with a sigh, and across the room Owen and Hannah agreed.</p><p>“But—” Dani started to panic, “but the dancing with me—”</p><p>And then it happened. Two gunshots rang out in the night, distant but close enough to clear Dani’s head for the moment, to straighten Jamie’s spine like she’d been skewered on an iron rod.</p><p>“Hunters, Jamie,” Owen said with a shrug, “it sounded like a rifle. Likely just some hunters.”</p><p>“Don’t go,” Miles said to her, pleading, “Jamie, please don’t—"</p><p>But Jamie was already flying out the door.</p><p>Owen and Hannah caught Miles and Flora, wrapped their arms around one each as the children screamed and thrashed and begged Jamie to come back.</p><p>“She’s just checking,” Owen soothed, trying to keep his grip on Miles, “she’ll come right back.”</p><p>But a moment later there was a pounding of hooves as Jamie rode Moon past the saloon at a gallop, disappearing into the night in the direction of the gunshots.</p><p>“She’ll be back soon, love,” Hannah held Flora, “she’ll check that we’re safe and she’ll come right back.”</p><p> </p><p>But Jamie didn’t come right back. Not when they all joined together in cleaning up the saloon. Not when the children were finally convinced to get ready for bed. Not when Dani slid into Jamie’s bed and waited. Waited and waited, the cordial making her eyelids heavy and slowly ferrying her to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>She woke hours later, clear headed and cold. The moon was high in the dark sky and the other side of the bed was cold and untouched. There was a low rumble in the distance. Thunder, it sounded like. And all at once Dani remembered the gunshots, the panic on Jamie’s face. The sadness on Hannah’s as she watched her go. The thought that Jamie hadn’t come back suddenly gripped Dani around the middle and before she knew it she was dressing in trousers and sliding on boots, descending the stairs to find the saloon dark and empty, outside the last embers of the fire glowing in the center circle.</p><p>She made her way out to the street and stopped short when she realized that Jamie was right there, leading Moon into the town circle.</p><p>“You’re back,” Dani said, only slightly embarrassed by the obvious relief in her voice, “I was—” <em>worried, </em>“wondering.”</p><p>Jamie didn’t answer and Dani couldn’t see her face beneath the shadows cast by her hat. But something was off. Jamie’s warmth was gone.</p><p>“What happened?” Dani tried asking. “With the gunshots?”</p><p>“Hunters,” Jamie’s tone was distant and gruff. “’S like Owen said.”</p><p>“That’s—that’s good, isn’t it? Just hunters—”</p><p>“Did you need something’?”</p><p>“Oh, well I, um—” <em>Don’t do this, </em>Dani wanted to plead. <em>Don’t pull away just yet. </em>“I—I was just—” <em>looking for you</em>suddenly seemed a pitiful truth when Jamie was speaking to her like this, brisque and annoyed. She hadn’t spoken to her like this in a week or more. Not since before. Dani eyed the horse. “What are you doing with Moon?”</p><p>“She’s scared of the thunder,” Jamie said, her voice a bit softer. “Gonna fix her up a bed in the saloon.”</p><p>Dani laughed, but Jamie didn’t. “Wait—” Dani looked at her, “really?”</p><p>Jamie nodded like there was nothing odd about it. “Can help if you like.”</p><p>And so together they set to work, Jamie tethering Moon to a post outside the saloon, Dani rushing back upstairs to collect as many quilts and blankets as she could find in the various closets and on any unused beds. When she got back downstairs, arms piled high, she found Jamie lowering the wooden facades she and Peter had built to cover the windows. To make them bulletproof—or at least more bullet resistant, Dani had figured out that second day.</p><p>“Blocks out the sound of it,” Jamie explained when she saw Dani looking. “Also the lightnin’—she doesn’t like the flashes. You can pile those there.” She pointed to a spot in the center of the floor.</p><p>When the bed was ready Jamie led Moon up the steps and Dani couldn’t keep from giggling at the way Moon stopped at the door, seeming to assess the saloon before deciding it was suitable. She clipped and clopped her way in, sniffing at this and that.</p><p>“Lie here, girl,” Jamie whispered, nudging her shoulder into Moon’s neck, encouraging her over to the bed they’d made. “Lay down and I’ll get you some dried fruit.”</p><p>Moon’s ears twitched at that, and with an enormous sigh and a <em>plunk </em>and <em>thud </em>that shook the saloon, Moon settled down onto the bed and munched delightedly on the fruit Jamie brought her.</p><p>Jamie knelt by her, stroking her ears for a while.</p><p>“You really love her,” Dani smiled.</p><p>“People are exhaustive,” Jamie said softly. “Animals are better. This one, anyway.” She kissed Moon’s face and stood, turning toward Dani. “You should get some kip, yeah? Long, um. Tomorrow. The journey—the ride, I mean. ‘S long.”</p><p>Dani felt it again, that iron grip, squeezing around her middle. “The ride?” She asked. “We’re—we’re going to—to meet him? Elsewhere?” It was the first time they were talking about it.</p><p>“Did you think I’d invited him to Bly for tea? Told you before, I don’t like people knowin’ where we are.”</p><p>Dani bristled. “Well, how was I to know? You haven’t told me anything about—”</p><p>“What do you want to know?” Jamie sounded annoyed. “Where we’re goin’ to meet him? How long it’ll take to get—”</p><p>“How much.” Dani crossed her arms. “How much are you getting for me?”</p><p>“I’m not doin’ this with you.” Jamie started for the door.</p><p>“Why not?” Dani went after her, followed her out into the dark street. “Is it too honest a question? Too uncomfortable a truth to demand?”</p><p>“You’ve known from the start what this is. Why we took you. You don’t get to start rubbin’ my nose in it now, just because you’re—”</p><p>“Just because I’m <em>what</em>?” She was practically chasing Jamie, shouting after her.</p><p>Jamie turned back. “Reluctant to leave.”</p><p>That stopped Dani in her tracks. They were really doing this, then. Shedding light into the dark corners. Flipping the stone to see what crawled beneath.</p><p>“And you’re—what?” Dani started, even as everything inside screamed at her not to ask it. Begged her to stop before the damage was too great. “Eager?” She asked it anyway. “Eager to be rid of me?”</p><p>Jamie raised a shoulder. “Some truth to that, I suppose.”</p><p>She knew. She knew the answer would cut through her and she’d asked it all the same. But they could both play this game. She’d seen the things that Jamie had tried to keep hidden too.</p><p>Jamie was farther up the road now and Dani had to raise her voice to be heard.</p><p>“You don’t say my name.”</p><p>Jamie stopped and turned back once more.</p><p>“You’ve never said my name,” Dani said again, “not since that first night. You said it once then, you asked if I was Danielle O’Mara. And you haven’t said it since.”</p><p>Jamie scoffed. “That’s not true, I—that can’t be true. I’m sure I’ve said—”</p><p>“Say it then. Say my name.”</p><p>“I don’t—” Jamie’s hand went to her back pocket and she looked away, poking her tongue against her cheek. Then her eyes snapped back to Dani. “I don’t <em>avoid </em>sayin’ your name, it’s not on purpose, like. If that’s what you’re implyin’—”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I’m implying.”</p><p>“Why would I do that?</p><p>“I have no idea,” Dani said, perhaps a bit sharper than she meant to.</p><p>Jamie looked up, shaking her head at the stars. “This is pointless. Doin’ this with you.” She started walking away again.</p><p>“I could run,” Dani said, following her into the caves. “Refuse to go back with you and you wouldn’t be paid.”</p><p>“Could, but you won’t.” Jamie took the gas lamp from the rock shelf and started down the winding stairway.</p><p>Dani kept after her. “You don’t know how close I am to doing just that.”</p><p>“You won’t.”</p><p>“I might,” Dani said when they’d reached the bottom of the stairs. When Jamie was practically marching away from her in the direction of her garden. “I could run to the canyon and throw myself—"</p><p>Suddenly Jamie spun to face her, and the look on her face stopped Dani where she stood. They’d been arguing, bickering, needling and prodding but <em>this</em>. Jamie looked furious.</p><p>“You’ll go back to your husband,” she said, her words bitter and sharp, a jarring contrast to the gas lamp’s soft fluttering. “Back to bein’ a wife. A schoolteacher. You’ll have children. You’ll cook meals and sew patches on things and greet neighbors in town and you’ll grow old the way girls are supposed to. And every once in a great while when the dullness of it all is just a bit too much you’ll think of me. Late at night when you can’t sleep and your husband is snorin’ beside you, you’ll dust the memory from the dark corner of your mind, and you’ll touch yourself and think of me. Of us, of what we did.” She took one step toward Dani, then another. “Of how fuckin’ good it felt, the things I did to you. All the ways I made you come. The way my mouth made you scream, the way my fingers touched places inside of you your useless husband never dreamed of findin’. And when you come, you’ll bite your lip to keep my name from spillin’ out, and after, when your little secret is smeared across your fingers and on the inside of your thighs there’ll be a moment when you tell yourself you’ll do it. You’ll leave him. But then your heartbeat will slow, your breathin’ will even and you’ll fall asleep and wake up the next mornin’ and you’ll be a wife and a mother and a teacher and everyone will think that’s the real Mrs. O’Mara, but it isn’t. It never will be. This was the real you—these past weeks. Your anger and your honesty and your curiosity and the way you just opened up to let it all in, everythin’ that used to terrify you. You’ll never be as yourself as you were that night, dancin’ round a Native’s fire, feather in your hair, howlin’ at the sky. You’ll never be as yourself as you were in my arms, naked and mindless and fuckin’ me like you couldn’t get me far enough inside you. After this? You’ll never quite be yourself ever again. You’ll spend the rest of your life chasin’ the echo of it.”</p><p>The silence that followed pressed heavily on Dani’s eardrums. She didn’t say <em>fuck you</em>. She didn’t say <em>how dare you. </em>She didn’t even deny it. Not any of it. She was resigned to it. This was always how it was going to end. So all she said was, “Will you think of me too? At night, in the dark?”</p><p>Jamie’s smile was a blade, slicing Dani open and spilling her across the packed dirt of the cave’s floor. “No, I won’t think of you at night in the dark. When I need to, I’ll find someone warm and willin’ and simple and easy and I’ll fuck them til I don’t need to anymore. I won’t think of you in the dark. I won’t think of you at all.”</p><p>Dani tried to breathe around the gaping hole in her chest. “And if I do leave Edmund?”</p><p>“I don’t give a fuck what you do. Once I’m paid and free of you? Join the bloody circus for all I care. Dive into the sea and swim for the Orient.”</p><p>“This,” Dani raised a hand then dropped it, an aborted gesture between them, “was just sex. Something we did to pass the time. Nothing more.” The hole in her chest was growing, an aching empty chasm that yawned open like it might swallow the entire cave if only to stopper itself.</p><p>“I wanted you to know. To know how good it could be with the right—” Jamie shook her head. “So down the road if you suddenly find yourself brave, you can make an informed choice, like. About who—” She waved a hand vaguely. “Who you want to be with.”</p><p>“But,” Dani breathed, “it can’t be you.”</p><p>Jamie just looked at her. Finally, she shook her head.</p><p>And Dani knew, she’d known, but still it felt as though she were drowning in mud and Jamie was just watching her sink under.</p><p>“This was just sex,” Dani repeated. She waited until Jamie met her eyes, confirming with a tiny nod. Dani nodded in return and stepped toward her. “Then fuck me.”</p><p>“That’s not—”</p><p>“Fuck me. Stop telling me how pathetic you think my life is going to be, how desperate I’ll find myself for you—who do you think you are? If this was just sex I shouldn’t be forced to endure the grating arrogance of your voice any longer—I shouldn’t have to hear another sound from you at all, save for the sound you make when my fingers—”</p><p>“That what you want, is it?” Jamie closed in on her. “Think that’ll make it easier to—”</p><p>Dani lunged forward and kissed her, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, and Jamie tore back and swiped at the blood with the back of her hand, glaring at Dani but Dani was already halfway back to her mouth, and then Jamie was biting her back and there was blood between them mixed with tongues and teeth and maybe even tears.</p><p>The small chamber was right there beyond the pool but it didn’t matter—the cold ground and damp stone wall were enough. Perhaps more fitting. A soft bed would have been a lie.</p><p>Jamie was backing her up against the wall, she’d long since dropped the gas lamp, sent it clattering and rolling across the floor, freeing her hands to come up and tangle in Dani’s hair, keep Dani’s mouth against hers as they kissed and bit at each other.</p><p>It was messy and quick and Dani could feel it tearing at the box she’d begun to pack the past two weeks in—a tidy compartment meant to hide away the secret mementos. A memory that no one else could touch. A <em>good </em>memory, a perfect memory. It had been good and it had been perfect. And now they were destroying it.</p><p>Dani could barely tell if they were fighting or fucking. The taste of blood was everywhere, hot and metallic and she was still angry, so incredibly angry, and this time when she caught Jamie’s lip between her teeth she bit down hard. This time she meant to hurt her.</p><p>Jamie’s noise was half surprise and half fury as she wrenched free.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Jamie’s voice was oddly gentle as she touched a finger to her mouth.</p><p>Dani stared, seething. She’d never been angrier. She hated her. Hated her for dangling a life in front of her that was freedom and camaraderie and joy and everything Dani had ever wanted, only to snatch it away. She already hated her for bringing her back to Edmund. How could she? When she knew the life she’d be damning her to?</p><p>“I hate you,” she said, surprising herself for voicing it.</p><p>Jamie nodded, blood smeared from her mouth to her chin, and Dani wanted to reach out for her, check to see what damage she’d caused, clean it and soothe it and tell her she was so sorry. But all that came out was,</p><p>“I hate you.” Again she said it. Again and again. She hated her. She hated her even while she knew she didn’t.</p><p>Finally Jamie silenced her with another brutal kiss, swallowing the pitiful noise Dani made. Jamie wasn’t kissing like she hated her, she was kissing like she was saying goodbye, and that was worse. That was so much worse.</p><p>“Fuck me,” Dani pulled back to say. To beg. “Please—it’s not—” <em>Time yet. </em>“We still have hours—”</p><p>Jamie spun her, grabbed her wrists, positioned them so they were braced against the damp wall. Like the first time when Dani’s fingers had grappled against the vanity. Jamie reached around, tore at her trouser ties, shoved them down Dani’s thighs haphazardly.</p><p>There was no preamble, nothing delicate about the way Jamie was suddenly filling her from behind, two fingers—<em>God, </em>maybe even three.</p><p>She was thrusting into her, ruthless stabs that had Dani sobbing out, rhythmic cries that echoed throughout the antechamber. If felt good even as it felt wrong. She was going to come and she was going to hate herself for it. For making Jamie do this. For turning their last night together into something twisted and ugly.</p><p>Jamie’s other hand was rubbing circles into her now, easing her along, and it wasn’t much longer before Dani was crying out her release, shuddering against Jamie’s hands and resting her head against the cave wall as she came down.</p><p>Jamie gently slid her fingers free, only to step closer and rest her forehead against Dani’s back. <em>Don’t</em>, Dani wished she had the strength to say. <em>Please just let me hate you. </em></p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jamie whispered, after long silent moments had slid by. She ghosted a kiss against Dani’s shoulder blade.</p><p>“Me too,” Dani whispered back without turning to face her. There was a tickle on her cheek, a tear, and Dani despised herself for it. She swiped at it with her palm, disguising the gesture as she went on to tuck her hair behind her ear.</p><p>When Dani finally turned back around she found Jamie watching her cautiously, her lower lip painfully swollen. Dani brushed her thumb over her mouth.</p><p>“I didn’t mean…” Dani looked at her and Jamie just raised a shoulder. Shook her head. <em>It doesn’t matter</em>, Dani knew she was saying.</p><p>Jamie sighed, and the sound was different. Brighter, somehow. “I’m gonna swim.” She tilted her head a fraction, looking at Dani.</p><p>Finally Dani nodded. “A swim sounds nice.”</p><p>They left their clothes on the stony banks and floated out to opposite ends of the pool, silent for a while save for the sounds of the water ebbing around their movements. Jamie had only bothered to light half the gas lamps and the edges of the pool were still cloaked in shadows. It was all too easy for Dani to sneak around, wait quietly for Jamie to open her eyes and see her there.</p><p>If she was alarmed she barely showed it, she just smiled and righted herself in the water, shook her hair out like a dog, spraying water everywhere.</p><p>“Turn round, will you?” Jamie jerked her chin at Dani, scrunching an eye.</p><p>Dani did without question, understanding a moment later when Jamie traced her healed wounds with her fingers.</p><p>“Healed well,” Jamie said softly. “Barely a scar after a while, I reckon.”</p><p>Dani turned back around. “Can I see yours?”</p><p>“My—?”</p><p>“Tattoo. I want to see it.”</p><p>Jamie turned. It was a massive, intricate work of art that took up nearly half her back. The outline of the bird was centered on her spine but the wings stretched across her shoulder blades, the tips of the outstretched wings curling up to touch her shoulders. Within the bird itself were complex patterns and shapes, swirls and lines and dots and sunbursts all fit together like the details on a butterfly’s wing, something remarkable found in nature.</p><p>Dani traced it with her finger, wingtip to wingtip.</p><p>“The Kuttuhsippeh only name people who have overcome something insurmountable,” Dani said softly, remembering. She watched the back of Jamie’s head bob in agreement. “They named you Mu’nai—”</p><p>“Means Moon,” Jamie said, and Dani nodded even though she couldn’t see her.</p><p>“I know.” She was tracing the jagged pattern of the hawk’s tailfeather. “What did you overcome?”</p><p>Jamie turned back around slowly, her face soft. She paddled back a bit, floating away until she bumped against the stone ledge. She used her chin to gesture Dani over.</p><p>They floated side by side, their heads resting back on the stone behind them. After several moments, Jamie starting speaking.</p><p>“The brothel was right on the wharf. Catered to sailors and merchants. The occasional ship captain, even. Was dodgy, all fuckin’ whorehouses are dodgy, but nicer than most, like. Was a proper house, velveteen bed curtains and golden sconces. Was a nursery attached, a place for the bastard children to go if one of the whores got pregnant and it wasn’t caught in time. Other brothels send the babies away. Give them to the nuns, like. To the orphanage. Not this brothel, though. The owner kept them. Master Crown was his name. He fed them and clothed them and raised them right there, keepin’ a tab the entire time, runnin’ up a bill their poor fuckin’ mothers never had a prayer of payin’ off. Kept them in servitude that way. Indebted. And sometimes—” She faltered, glancing over at Dani before looking blankly at the black expanse above, swallowing hard. “Sometimes patrons were lookin’ for somethin’ more. Reckon that’s the real reason Crown kept kids round. Could charge a fuckin’ premium.”</p><p>When Dani realized what she was saying she looked at her, swallowing against the sudden squirming in her stomach. “You don’t mean—”</p><p>But Jamie just carried on talking. “We grew up there together, Peter and I. Charlotte, too. She was…Christ,” Jamie blew out a breath, “a bit like you, really. Brilliant. Bright as the fuckin’ sun. Crown started takin’ Peter first. In the night, usually. He would come for him and Charlotte and I would fight it—Peter was too decent. Too good. Too stupid, if I’m honest. He didn’t know what was happenin’. But Charlotte and I fought it for him. Never managed to save him from it though. And then in time Crown came for Charlotte and afterward she stopped fightin’ altogether. Wasn’t long after that her cough started.”</p><p>The waterfall was cascading nearby, an endless supply of white noise. <em>Life was probably just a little too sweet in Cottonwood</em>, Jamie had said once. Dani had wanted to pummel her for it. <em>What did she know of Cottonwood?</em> Dani had seethed. And now. Now Dani’s face was flushing with shame and horror and she couldn’t look at Jamie so she sent the question straight up to the ceiling of the chamber.</p><p>“Did Crown—did he come for you?”</p><p>“When I was nine,” Jamie said, and Dani fought against a wave of nausea. “But I fought him. I’d taken a knife from the kitchens weeks earlier and I sliced his arm open. In the end I reckon I was more trouble than I was worth. Crown let me work odd jobs round the docks to pay my dues, washin’ traps, runnin’ the odd errand for the vendors set up shop there. Kept him off my back. Then things changed for a bit when my mum had the baby. My half-brother. Michael, he was called. I called him Mikey. His father was one of my mom’s regulars, a merchant. Rich as fuck. When Mikey was born he took care of my mum, sent money. For a couple years Crown left us alone. Didn’t even have to work the docks.”</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye Dani saw Jamie shake her head, as if to herself.</p><p>“That shite never lasts,” Jamie said softly. “Mikey was two when the merchant visited one last time. He’d taken a rich little bride, they were movin’ inland somewhere far away and exotic. No more ships. No more money for my mum. He left Mikey a bag of coins. Blue velvet, with a corded drawstring.” As she’d said it her hands had come up out of the water, pantomiming pulling at the drawstring bag like she could still see it there before her plain as day. “My mum tried to hide them away, the coins. The merchant had procured them years earlier in his travels, or so he said. They were rare. Worth a lot. Reckon my mom thought she’d bide her time and use them to buy us a new life. But nothin’ stays secret in a brothel. Crown knew about the coins by the next day and he took them. For her debt, he said. For keepin’ me and Mikey—never mind I’d been payin’ my own way for years. Crown started forcin’ my mum to work extra, like. More men. More and more. And she got sick. The brothel had a doctor but he couldn’t help her, said she needed a specialist. I begged Crown to send for one. For a specialist to help her. Too expensive, he said. I begged him to let me use the coins, but he pretended like he didn’t know what I was talkin’ about. My mum was dead by winter.”</p><p>“Jamie—”</p><p>“Not tellin’ this so you’ll coddle me. I’m not—” Jamie’s laugh was a harsh breath. “Don’t really know why I’m tellin’ you, if I’m honest.”</p><p>“Because I asked.” Dani’s voice was a quiet rasp. “I want to know.”</p><p>Jamie nodded and faced the ceiling again. “I left the wharf after that. Took off. Figured the only way I could do right by Mikey was to save up and get him the fuck out. Not so easy when it comes to it, though. Years passed. I visited when I could. And every time I did, the light in Peter’s eyes was a little bit dimmer. Charlotte was a little frailer. And Mikey was a little bigger. A little older. A little closer to the day when Crown would come for him. So I taught him to fight. Told him if Crown came back before I did he had to lay him the fuck down, whatever it took. Got close to saving enough to pay Crown off. Few more quid and I would’ve had enough to take Mikey away.”</p><p>A quiet minute slipped by, the another.</p><p>“What happened?” Dani asked.</p><p>“I lost it all. I was fifteen and skinny—half-starved, really. Got jumped and it was five to one. Couldn’t fight them off. After that I said fuck it, if they can steal honest savings from a person I can do the same. Except I was clumsy with it. Got caught. Spent the next few years in prison. More than a few. All the while comin’ up with a plan. Go back. Get Mikey. Get the coins. Get the fuck out and never look back.”</p><p>She was silent for a while then, and Dani thought perhaps she wouldn’t finish the story. Wouldn’t tell her how it ended. But then she did.</p><p>“When I went back—” She shook her head. “I’d been away too long. Mikey met me on the docks and he was older—not just—he was fourteen by then, but his eyes were ancient. Tired, like. Crown had gotten him. Peter was—well. Still Peter. Still <em>good</em>. Despite everything. And Charlotte—” Jamie swallowed. Lifted a hand up out of the water and watched the droplets fall. Rested it against her side. “Mikey told me the cough took her the year before. That she’d left behind two children at the brothel. Mikey had been mindin’ them. Watchin’ out for them, like. The way I should’ve been there to look out for him. He didn’t say it but I reckon he thought it. I know he thought it.” The hand at her side had curled into a fist. “I told Mikey one week. One week, I said, for me to prepare. I’d come for him in a week and we’d take the first ship we could buy our way onto, go anywhere. Everywhere. One week, I promised him. One week.” A line appeared in her brow, Dani saw it when she glanced at her. “The coins were easy enough to find. Picked enough locks in my time, Crown’s office was hardly a challenge. But it turned out differently, in the end. From how I’d planned. Mikey wasn’t—”</p><p>Dani watched a muscle flex and clench in Jamie’s cheek.</p><p>“I almost left with the coins after—well. Did leave, for a minute. Got outside and realized I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave them there. Not after—” She shook her head. “And if it wasn’t Mikey it would be the others. I found Peter first. Asleep upstairs. And he helped me wake the children. Charlotte’s children. We boarded the first fuckin’ ship we could, climbed aboard in the darkness, found a space down below where we wouldn’t be seen. Not for a while, anyway. Fell asleep there, the four of us, in one big heap. By mornin’ we were on our way. On our way to America.”</p><p>The story rippled out, filling the space. Filling Dani’s head with images of Flora and Miles, too young to understand, secreted away in the belly of a ship. Jamie had left things out, Dani knew. She wanted to ask what had happened to Mikey. Why she’d left without him. But there was something there—some sort of invisible line that she knew instinctively she wasn’t meant to cross. So she asked something else.</p><p>“The person you killed—was that—did it happen that night? Is that why you’re wanted for murder?”</p><p>“I’m wanted because I stole valuable coins from a rich man. But that’s the sort of thing that would make me a fuckin’ hero with the common folk. Like Robin Hood, only better lookin’,” she flashed Dani a grin. “To catch a criminal, you need to world to think that person’s done somethin’ truly terrible. I killed someone,” she said simply, “but he was a monster, and there isn’t a person who’d disagree. Crown wants his coins back, so he put a bounty on my head.” Another grin. “And JT London was born.”</p><p>“The coins must be extremely valuable, if he’s willing to—”</p><p>“They are,” Jamie was nodding. “But it doesn’t matter. I lost them on the passage over. They were stolen, rather. While I was asleep.”<br/>“Did you report—” She realized the idiocy of the question before she could even finish voicing it.</p><p>Jamie smiled at her. “We arrived on your country’s golden shores penniless and wanted, and we’ve been runnin’ ever since.”</p><p>“I didn’t believe you when you told me,” Dani said quietly. “When you said you’d saved them, I didn’t believe you at first.”</p><p>She saw Jamie shrug in her periphery.</p><p>“Don’t suppose <em>saved </em>is the right word for it anyway. Shite life, this.” She flicked her fingers at their surroundings. “Primitive, like. But the things that happened in that fuckin’ hell hole brothel—it breaks you, you know? Like you’re born whole,” she gestured with her hands, “but all it takes is one shite thing to shatter you. And it’d be fine if you could keep the pieces, like. Put them back together, suppose that’s a bit like growth, really. But if horrid shite keeps on happenin’ it’s like you start losin’ the pieces. They get taken from you. One then another and another. On and on it goes. And there are only so many pieces.” She looked at Dani. “I didn’t want that for them. For the little ones.”</p><p>“It is the right word, Jamie. Saved is, I mean.” Dani smiled a small smile. “And that’s why the Kuttuhsippeh gave you a name? Because you overcame all of that?”</p><p>“They named me Mu’nai because the moon rises in the dark. Reckon they thought it was fittin’. Bit dramatic, honestly, but. Kind of them, all the same.” Suddenly she turned her head to look Dani in the eye. “This is my life. Hidin’ in the desert like some fuckin’ reptile, always lookin’ over my shoulder, one hand always on my gun. My life is hearin’ shots in the desert and thinkin’ the worst. Thinkin’ it’s Crown, or somebody lookin’ to cash in on the bounty. ‘S on my mind constantly—that I’m gonna have to watch as they drag the little ones away. String Peter and I up like strips of meat in a fuckin’ butcher’s barn. This is my life, and it’s dirty and hard and you’ve only been here two weeks so you don’t know how bad it gets. What it’s like to constantly be runnin’ out of water. Food too. Flora’s cough. Miles’ anger. Peter’s—” She shook her head. “Don’t even know what to call it, never mind how to help him.” She looked away, then back at Dani. “You’re too good for it. For this rubbish life. Your husband has a town beside the sea, reckon there’s a nice little house just waitin’ for you to turn it into a home, like. You’ll be the Mayor’s wife, proper respectable title, that. Fancy as fuck, honestly.” She let out a little laugh but her smile faded as quickly as it had flared. “I’ve got nothin’ to offer you.”</p><p>It was the most honest Jamie had ever been, even if she was wrong. She had everything to offer. But Dani didn’t know how to tell somebody a truth that they were determined not to believe. So instead she reached out across the watery space between them and hooked her pinky around Jamie’s index finger. Squeezed. And when Jamie squeezed back, it was enough.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When they finally climbed out, Dani began shivering so violently she was having trouble tying up her trousers.</p><p>Jamie laughed. “C’mon.”</p><p>Dani looked at her.</p><p>“The chamber.” She nodded to the little stairway in the corner. “Towels and blankets. Come on.”</p><p>The violin was sitting on the bed, Jamie must have brought it down before bringing Moon to the saloon.</p><p>“Damp air’s bad for it,” Jamie said when she’d slipped on a shirt and noticed what Dani was looking at, “but the acoustics,” she smiled, gesturing around at the cave, “nothing quite like it. So once in a while,” she shrugged. “I’ll bring it back up later.”</p><p>Dani picked the instrument up. It was beautiful, delicately carved and light as air. “Where did you learn how to play?”</p><p>“The docks,” Jamie said simple. “Odd jobs, like I said. Learned from watchin’ this older man, come down to the docks for a few quid. When I got good enough we’d play together. People are more generous when it’s a kid, like. Did that for a year, at least.”</p><p>“Would you—” Dani eyed Jamie. “Would you play? Again?”</p><p>Jamie raised an eyebrow, gave Dani a smirk. And Dani could’ve wept at the surge of relief that coursed through her because she’d come back, Jamie had come back to herself. There was something salvageable of their evening, even still.</p><p>Jamie rested the instrument beneath her chin and used the bow to corral Dani to the end of the bed. Nodded for her to sit.</p><p>Jamie closed her eyes and let the bow hover over the strings. She took a deep breath and when she released it she let the bow drag slowly, and a haunted hum filled the chamber. It was nothing like the songs she’d played in the saloon. This was slow and purposeful. Sad and poignant and familiar, somehow. The sound of it was hollowing Dani out and she could feel the notes reverberating in her, bouncing off her ribcage the way they bounced from the walls of the cave. Jamie kept her eyes open while she played, but she didn’t look at Dani, she looked down at the floor. She only looked up as she dragged the bow a final time, the last note lingering then fading.</p><p>Dani smiled. “You’re really good.”</p><p>Jamie shrugged and shook her head. “Reckon you haven’t heard many people play then.”</p><p>“Was it a lullaby? What you just played? It sounded—”</p><p>“Isn’t meant to be I don’t think, but I sing it for Miles and Flora when they can’t sleep.”</p><p>That was where she’d heard it. That night she’d heard Jamie sing to Miles.</p><p>“From back home,” Jamie said, tucking the violin away on top of the vanity, “O Willow Waly, it’s called.”</p><p>The silence stretched as Jamie seemed to find something on the bow that needed fixing. She pulled something from the drawer, a waxy cube it seemed, and ran it along the bow’s fibers.</p><p>“I don’t want to live in Promise,” Dani admitted suddenly. Not a surprising revelation, but unexpected that she’d finally voiced it.</p><p>“Village by the sea,” Jamie muttered softly. “Could be nice, couldn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s Cottonwood with a better view,” she said. “That was the whole point.” She looked at Jamie. “Edmund and several other councilmen were selected by the church. Given money to go west and expand the faith. Bring God to the lawless territories. Manifest destiny.”</p><p>Jamie was quiet for a while. Then, “I met people like that once. Last summer. We’d run out of food and we had to—”</p><p>“The charity,” Dani said, “Flora told me this morning.”</p><p>“Wasn’t charity,” Jamie said. “Not really. Was one of those—” She squinted an eye, searching for the words, “like a traveling church?”</p><p>“A tent revival,” it dawned on Dani all at once. “My father preaches at tent revivals every summer. That’s what they do, they bait people, the—” <em>the poor, </em>she’d almost said, but it seemed rude, “hungry people, down on their luck. Food in exchange for your soul,” Dani grinned.</p><p>“No fuckin’ thank you,” Jamie laughed. “Got the fuck out of that portable sanitorium quick as can be. Mad bunch, those people.”</p><p><em>Those people. </em>Dani could’ve kissed her for not saying <em>your.</em></p><p>She looked up as Jamie drew closer, coming to stand before her at the end of the bed.</p><p>“I like you,” Dani said suddenly, and it was possible the cordial hadn’t entirely left her system.</p><p>But Jamie didn’t look posed to laugh or mock her. Her face softened at the confession and then she was tucking a blonde strand behind Dani’s ear.</p><p>“I like you too.”</p><p>It was slow, then. The way their mouths met. The way that soft and gentle kisses were covering up the bruises and bite marks. Erasing them, replacing them.</p><p>There was nothing hurried about the way they slid into bed, naked once more, their hair still damp from the pool. It was different, the way they lay their on their sides to face each other, soft kisses giving way to more soft kisses. An exploration without a destination.</p><p>Eventually it began to build. Tongues and teeth, but gentle still. When Jamie trailed a hand down the length of Dani, finding her heat and stroking in, the spark caught and Dani knelt up, hungry and wanting.</p><p>She’d imagined a million ways to make Jamie feel good. Ways to make herself feel good with Jamie. Her head was flooded with those sorts of ideas lately, as if Jamie had taken a sledgehammer to the dam in her brain that had always been so effective at keeping those thoughts at bay. She wanted to do everything, bring every last fantasy to life, but time was drawing short and there was one notion in her head that was plaguing her more incessantly than all the rest.</p><p>Instead of asking, instead of clumsily voicing the idea, she decided to just attempt it before her bravery could falter. She was already draped across Jamie and it took little maneuvering for her to sit up, nudge Jamie’s thighs apart, smile at her questioning gaze and position herself atop Jamie’s heat. She had to adjust her own legs, widen her stance in order to align herself properly and as she did she glanced at Jamie, who looked as though someone was pointing a loaded revolver at her forehead. Frozen in place, wide-eyed and looking as though she hadn’t drawn a breath in several minutes. </p><p>“Is this...is this okay?” Dani thought to ask.</p><p>Jamie’s consciousness seemed to snap back into her body and she nodded furiously, her hands coming to clamp around Dani’s hips. </p><p>When Dani had pictured this it had mostly involved pressing against one another, sharing each other’s heat and slick and holding that position, an intimate communion. But Jamie had other ideas. She rolled her hips up in a sudden thrust and all the air punched out of Dani’s lungs because why hadn't she realized it could be so much more? Jamie did it again and Dani could feel her smearing herself against her, dripping and hot. Their buds—clits, Jamie had called them—were swollen and it was a tease, sliding against each other like this until Dani widened her legs just an it more and Jamie pushed into her just right and then it wasn’t a tease because their clits were touching and Dani actually doubled over at the thought, at the feeling.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jamie ground out, rolling her hips, ignoring the way that Dani had curled forward in blissful agony. “You feel so fuckin’ good like this—“</p><p>Dani straightened and snapped her head back, grinding down as Jamie pushed up into her and this time when their clits collided they stopped moving and instead just pushed into each other with a force bordering on violent.</p><p>It was so good, it was too fucking good, feeling Jamie against her like this and a tortured sob wrenched its way from Dani’s chest.</p><p>“I love this—“ Dani confessed suddenly, because she had to get it out, she needed Jamie to understand that this was all she wanted—to be close to her like this, with nothing between them.</p><p>“Do you?” Jamie’s fingers flexed at her hips.</p><p>Dani nodded. “I can feel you—I can feel—,” she wasn't quite brave enough to use the word <em>clit</em> yet, but Jamie’s eyes had darkened so it was obvious she’d understood all the same, “God, is it like this for everyone? Would it—?” <em>Always be like this if I stayed?</em></p><p>Jamie shook her head, one small jerk. “Only like this when people are starvin’ for each other.”</p><p>A part of Dani throbbed at that because it was almost a confession of something, but her head was too fuzzy to make out anything other than the vague shape of it.</p><p>“I just want—“ The words escaped Dani on a whine but she didn’t know how to finish the thought, not with Jamie thrusting against her, obscene sounds filling the cave.</p><p>“What do you want?” Jamie asked, and when Dani looked at her the haze of sex had cleared from her eyes, making the question seem bigger, somehow. </p><p>So Dani answered honestly. “You. I want you, I want this—I want,” to stay, that little voice screamed. But that kind of confession would shatter the crystalline cocoon they’d spun around themselves. “I want you to fuck me—keep fucking me—“</p><p>“Fuck, I will,” Jamie managed through a clenched jaw, her thrusts coming harder now. “Won’t stop, don’t ever wanna stop, wanna keep fuckin’ you forever—“</p><p>“Jamie,” Dani groaned through another perfectly aligned thrust, her hips were starting to shudder.</p><p>“Tell me—”</p><p>“You’re making me feel so good—“</p><p>Jamie groaned and it sounded like a growl. “Want you to come like this—can you?” </p><p>Dani nodded frantically because <em>yes</em>, easily, and soon.</p><p>“Christ, I wanna feel it—wanna feel you fuckin’ come against me—“</p><p>“Jamie,<em> fuck</em>—“</p><p>Dani’s hips were erratic, completely out of her control, so Jamie guided them with strong fingers, driving into her again and again and again until it all caught up with Dani at once—the way Jamie was looking at her, like there wasn’t a thought in her head outside of watching Dani come, the smell of sex and the sound of slick sliding against slick. There was a fresh rush of wet heat—Dani couldn’t even tell if it came from her or from Jamie, but the thought of them mixing together like that, the thought that this was the closest and most intimate she’d ever been with another person...Dani came, and she came hard. </p><p>Jamie whispered a string of curses when it happened, gripping and anchoring Dani in place, helping her ride it out. There was something filthy and beautiful about coming against Jamie’s center, pouring her orgasm into Jamie, reaching her peak between Jamie’s spread legs—it fueled her climax, making her clench, sparks jumping at the edges of her vision. </p><p>At long last Dani started to come down, but then Jamie slid her eyes down to where they were fused together, a little crease appearing between her brows, and Dani’s center throbbed and pulsed again because it was all too much. <br/>Finally she slumped forward, sweaty and sated, resting her forehead on Jamie’s collarbone. Jamie collected her unruly hair with both hands, smoothing it back before trailing her fingertips up and down Dani’s spine.</p><p>“You alright?” There was a smile in her voice. <br/><br/>Dani nodded against her collarbone and Jamie lifted up enough to drop a kiss on the top of Dani’s head. And the Dani shifted, brought her mouth to Jamie’s, kissed her with everything she couldn’t say.</p><p>Jamie nipped her lower lip then soothed it over with her tongue and Dani opened her mouth, letting Jamie’s tongue swipe inside. This was how it was, being with someone you craved, Dani was realizing. Sated one moment and then a ghost of a touch or a glide of a tongue would stoke the fire back to life.</p><p>The kiss turned desperate, Jamie’s hands raking up into Dani’s hair on either side of her head, past her ears, just holding her there. Dani tracing the sharp lines of Jamie’s face with her own hands, memorizing them. She needed to memorize them. She needed to be able to carry the memory for the next hundred years.</p><p>The thought of forgetting, the thought of Jamie’s features washing away over time until she was nothing more than a faceless ghost—Dani couldn’t keep from making an anguished noise. But it was one that Jamie answered with a soft cry of her own, kissing Dani again. And when she gently pulled Dani’s head back a minute later to look at her, her eyes were different.  </p><p><em>No,</em> Dani thought, <em>you can’t look at me that way. </em>It wasn’t fair. To look at her that way knowing full well she was going to deliver Dani to Edmund first thing in the morning. But Jamie just kept staring at her and Dani realized she was doing the exact same thing—committing her features to memory.</p><p>Then, Jamie’s eyes narrowed and she whispered, “You’re beautiful.”</p><p>Her words were a gilded dagger, lovely and awful.</p><p>“Do you know how maddeningly beautiful you are?” Jamie was asking. “Christ, sometimes I look at you and I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”</p><p>“Jamie—“ There was so much. So much that she couldn’t say.</p><p>Jamie rolled them suddenly, leaning up so she could look down at Dani. “What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want tonight,” she started kissing a line down Dani’s neck, “I’ll fuckin’ bring you the moon, just want you to be happy tonight—“</p><p><em>Tell me to stay</em>. “You, I just want you—“</p><p>“You have me, you have me—“</p><p>“I want—God, I want to taste you—“</p><p>Jamie went still for a moment before continuing her path along Dani’s neck, peppering kisses that were suddenly more cautious than they were heated. </p><p>“Please,” Dani whispered, and Jamie dropped her forehead to Dani’s collarbone on a small sigh. Dani slid her hand up, carded her fingers through Jamie’s hair and tucked the loose curls behind her ear. “If—if you really don’t want me to it’s fine—I don’t—I shouldn’t have said anything—“</p><p>Jamie shifted to look at her. “‘S that what you think? That I don’t want you to?”</p><p>“I don’t—“ Suddenly she was embarrassed. “I don’t know...I thought...I thought maybe you were worried I wouldn’t be any good at it, and—and perhaps at first I wouldn’t be, but I’m sure I could learn—“</p><p>Jamie’s sharp peal of laughter caught Dani off guard, but then Jamie was shifting, pushing up onto her hands again so she could look Dani in the eye properly. </p><p>“You think,” Jamie said, eyebrow arched, “that I think,” she was pausing dramatically as she went, “that you wouldn’t be any good at it?” </p><p>Dani looked away. “I assumed it was a factor.”</p><p>Jamie’s knuckle was under her chin, pulling her eyes back. </p><p>“You,” Jamie smiled, “are mad if you think there’s anythin’ you wouldn’t be good at.” A beat passed. “Except revolvers.”</p><p>It was meant to lighten the mood, Dani knew, but it was their last night and time was slipping and she wasn’t going to let Jamie do that—use humor to avoid her that way.</p><p>Dani looked at her. “Then why...?”</p><p>“Just enjoyin’ other things with you is all,” Jamie said, with a shrug that was far too nonchalant to be genuine. She was lying. Hiding something. And it wasn’t fair because she’d promised to show Dani everything. Silly maybe, to be hurt over it. But there was something in the fantasy they’d been living, the secrecy and the whirlwind. Dani thought they were past keeping secrets. </p><p>“Hey,” Jamie said softly, “where’d you just go?”</p><p>Dani swallowed, focused her eyes back on Jamie’s. “Nowhere. I’m here.” And she met Jamie’s kiss, deep and desperate, learning the contours of her mouth with her tongue so she could carry that memory too. Long moments later, Jamie pulled away and rested her forehead against Dani’s, her eyes shut and her breaths gentle.</p><p>It was late, the early hours of Saturday by now, undoubtedly, and Dani was certain that Jamie was about to suggest they sleep.</p><p>But instead, with her eyes still closed, Jamie whispered, “Okay.”</p><p>It took a minute for Dani to understand what she was saying. When she did she brushed her thumb along Jamie’s eyebrow, urging her to look.</p><p>“Really?” Dani whispered.</p><p>And it was strange, because she could’ve sworn Jamie looked scared. Nervous, at least. Something about it made her cautious. But then she was nodding, slow and sure, letting Dani slide out and up from under her, falling back against the bed when Dani gently pushed at her shoulder.</p><p>Jamie’s eyes were on Dani but then they were rolling up to the ceiling as Dani began kissing her way down, starting at Jamie’s neck, dropping a kiss on her nose for good measure before mouthing at her sternum, then her breasts.</p><p>“Christ,” Jamie breathed, tangling her hand in Dani’s hair as Dani sucked at one nipple, then the other, leaving glistening peaks in her wake.</p><p>She kissed Jamie’s stomach, learning the hard contours of the muscles there with her tongue. Her journey down Jamie’s body was slow, designed to tease. Designed to give Jamie a chance to change her mind. To back out of this thing that she had seemed so determined to avoid.</p><p>She knelt between Jamie’s legs, only to take her time kissing up one leg, then the other. Slowly and reverently, fueled by the thought that perhaps no one else had ever kissed Jamie here, right here, in this small spot just behind her knee. Maybe that spot could be Dani’s, and Dani’s alone. Or the freckle by her ankle—surely no one else had taken their time to taste it, to mark it with their mouth.</p><p>By the time she made her way up to the insides of Jamie’s thighs, Jamie’s stomach was quivering, her fists clenched tightly, balling up the sheet.</p><p>Dani had never done this before, but she was certain she could do it well. After all, Jamie had shown her. How to watch for reactions, how to listen for every gasp, how to read the exact timbre of a groan.</p><p>She hovered by her heat, looking up to find Jamie with her jaw set, still staring at the ceiling, her knuckles turning white.</p><p>“Jamie,” Dani whispered, and Jamie nodded, short and quick and seemingly at the edge of control.</p><p>When Dani dipped down, touching her tongue to the slick spot between Jamie’s dark curls, it was as if that small shock of pleasure alone was her undoing, the way she grasped the sheet even tighter, clenching her mouth around a noise she refused to let out.</p><p>Dani rubbed her hands up and down Jamie’s thighs, gently pushed at them, encouraging Jamie to open wider for her. To stop fighting this if she really wanted it, or to—</p><p>“Let me know,” Dani whispered, when Jamie’s legs had finally succumbed and fallen fully open, “if you change your mind, let me know.”</p><p>Dani swiped her tongue along Jamie’s slit, her mind reeling at all that she was discovering—how smooth she was inside, how easily she could slide her tongue up into that part of her that had only ever opened for Dani’s fingers. And the taste of her, tangy and sweet, Dani was sure she’d be addicted to this by the end.</p><p>When she found Jamie’s clit with her tongue, Jamie’s hips stuttered, like Jamie had barely been able to keep from thrusting into Dani’s mouth.</p><p>“You can,” Dani lifted up to say, “you can do anything.” And Jamie didn’t answer but Dani watched as her eyes slid closed, her brow pulling together.</p><p>Dani kept an eye on Jamie’s face as she licked slow circles around her clit before sucking it into her mouth altogether. Jamie’s eyes flew open and she ground her teeth together, gnashing them hard enough to make an audible sound.</p><p>She wanted this, Jamie did. Dani was sure she wanted it, Jamie wasn’t the type to say <em>yes </em>when she really meant <em>no</em>. Besides, she was dripping with evidence of her want, her swollen clit was more proof positive. But it still felt one-sided. As if she was letting Dani do this for Dani. But no—Dani suddenly realized, that wasn’t it at all. <em>I grew up in a brothel. </em>Jamie was worried that Dani was just doing this for <em>her</em>—that had to be it. A laughable assumption, and one that Dani needed to rectify at once.</p><p>“I want this,” Dani said, firm and loud enough for Jamie to understand it as a statement rather than whispered filth. “I want to be here, doing this with you. <em>With you</em>, Jamie.”</p><p>Jamie looked down at her and seemed to struggle for a moment with the vision of Dani’s face between her thighs.</p><p>“I want this more than anything,” she said again, softer this time, before leaning down to lick at Jamie’s clit.</p><p>“<em>Fuck,</em>” Jamie said suddenly, “say it again—” she raised her head to look down at Dani, “one more time, just—please, I need—”</p><p>“I want to be here, I swear. I do. I want this,” Dani said, and her heart broke a little bit as each word seemed to land on Jamie’s face like a balm to a burn. It was like puncturing something long under pressure, the way she deflated, the way the tension suddenly seemed to drain from her limbs.</p><p>When Dani’s tongue found its way to Jamie’s heat again, everything changed. Jamie’s hand released the bedsheet and flew down to Dani’s head, cradling the top of her skull as her hips ground up slowly, then more insistently.</p><p>She was making noises now too, letting them fall freely from a jaw that was now unhinged and hanging open, watching in awestruck arousal as Dani licked at her. Her breaths were great stuttering gasps as though there wasn’t enough oxygen to go around.  </p><p>Dani flattened her tongue and dragged it along her clit, slow and firm, making eye contact when Jamie ground out a groan, followed by a drawn-out curse. Then Dani did it again, and Jamie’s fingers tightened in her hair, holding her in place as she ground her clit into Dani’s mouth.</p><p>“Fuck,” she said, sounding almost angry. “Christ,” she dragged her clit against Dani’s tongue and her eyes rolled back, then snapped forward again to watch, “your mouth is fuckin’ perfect.”</p><p>Dani bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide, from ruining the moment with a giddy grin. She swirled her tongue around Jamie’s clit then swept it along her slit again, swallowing down the taste of her.</p><p>“You’re perfect,” Jamie whispered suddenly, and there was something about the way she said it. Like it was another whispered confession, something she’d been biting back for days.</p><p>And then the caves and the candlelight and the echo of the waterfall faded into background noise, distant and trivial, as Jamie’s next words came rushed and breathy.</p><p>“Dani,” she said, and Dani faltered when she heard it. “Dani,” Jamie said again, stroking her hand over Dani’s hair. She was saying it like a mantra. She wasn’t even looking at Dani anymore, she was looking at the ceiling, whispering Dani’s name like a prayer.</p><p>Acting instinctively Dani teased Jamie’s entrance with one finger, then two, sliding them into her, watching with arousal and adulation as Jamie’s back arched entirely off the bed. Then Dani began to lick at her urgently, finding a rhythm, firm strokes against her clit the way Jamie seemed to prefer. And all the while Jamie kept whispering her name, whining it, grinding it out like a curse.</p><p>Her thrusts were wild now, and though the look on her expression was still one of grateful reverence there was no denying the desperate cant of her hips, the way she was fucking Dani’s mouth like nothing else mattered.</p><p>“I’m gonna come,” she whispered after a particularly purposeful grind against Dani’s tongue, and even though it had been obvious that she was on the brink Dani still slid her a thick smile, encouraging her to take what she needed.</p><p>Jamie thrust up once, twice and then one last time—holding herself against Dani’s mouth as her entire body began to shake, as her fingers flexed and clenched in Dani’s hair, as she started whispering <em>fuck, fuck, fuck. </em>Dani wasn’t sure what inspired her to do it but suddenly she opened her mouth wide, slotting it entirely against Jamie’s heat, flattening her tongue against her clit and pressing down and it was like the moment the spark reaches the dynamite stick—Jamie exploded.</p><p>The noise she made wasn’t even human—it was hollow and broken and desperate and awestruck like something long chained, finally set free. She stayed frozen that way—her hips arched, her heat still pressed against Dani’s mouth—for long moments as she shook and shuddered and cursed and dripped and then finally, faintly, uttered Dani’s name a final time.</p><p>When Dani crawled back up to her, when Jamie swiped a thumb across her lips, cleaning them, there was nothing to be said. Nothing more to do, other than exchange a gentle kiss, share a soft smile. Rest, forehead to forehead, eyes drifting shut. Nothing more to do than fall into each other, curl up and around one another, and ignore the way the jam jar candles were growing shorter, soon to burn out as day drew ever nearer.</p><p> </p><p>They lay in silence for some time, listening to the waterfall cascading. Jamie was pressed against her back, an arm wrapped around Dani’s side, holding her tight. Long moments passed and time was strange as Dani dozed. Exhausted yet terrified to waste time on slumber. Countless times she drifted off, her fingers entwined with Jamie’s at her middle, and countless times she came back to herself, blinking and wondering if it had been a minute she’d slept or an hour.</p><p>It happened again—she came back to herself, opening her eyes, the candle on the vanity slowly coming into focus. It hadn’t burned much further since the last time she woke—it wasn’t morning yet. There was still time. Her eyes slid shut again and that was when it happened. Jamie, shifting slightly behind her, perhaps waking up from a short sleep herself. She kissed Dani’s spine, gentle and soft, and then whispered quiet words into Dani’s skin.</p><p>“Don’t leave me.”</p><p>The words caught in Dani’s ear and lingered there, the feeling of them still tingling against her back long moments after they were spoken. The words were the moon, filling the shore and draining the tide in equal measure. The words were a key fitting into a lock at long last.</p><p>But if Dani allowed herself to be unlocked, allowed herself to be opened, there was no telling what truths might spill out. Truths that had been on the tip of her tongue for days now. And other things that she’d only tonight begun to suspect. Things that she hated, if only for their unfairness. Things like how she didn’t think she could live in Promise and go back to a life of rules and religious propaganda. Darker things too, like how she wasn’t sure she even wanted to try. How she’d begun to wonder if it would be easy—wading into the ocean and letting it ferry her out to sea.</p><p>And perhaps darkest of all was the thing so preposterous, so unexpected and outlandish. Far too insane to ever consider voicing. Because people weren’t supposed to fall in love with their captors. People weren’t even supposed to consider it. Normal people, anyway. But Dani had suspected for days now that she’d done just that. It was a piece of buckshot lodged inside her heart, and if she could she would plunge her own hand into her chest and pull the unwanted piece out, give it back to Jamie, tell her she didn’t want it. That she couldn’t survive it.</p><p>Dani shifted, turning slowly to face Jamie. There was alarm on Jamie’s face, embarrassment that Dani had heard her, that she hadn’t been asleep.</p><p>Dani watched her wide and panicked eyes, watched her swallow and open her mouth, searching for words.</p><p>“I need to tell you somethin’,” Jamie said.</p><p>But Dani shook her head. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t ruin tonight.”</p><p>And then Jamie was nodding and Dani was kissing her before she could change her mind and say something irreversible. Kissed her before their last hour was filled with things like <em>I didn’t mean it. We can’t. Another lifetime. </em></p><p>Their kisses turned quickly to frantic touches, hands roving and grabbing and seeking one last time. Dani rolled on top of her, straddling Jamie’s outstretched leg, pressing her own thigh into Jamie’s center, rutting into her, against her, with her, mouths inches apart and eyes locked together. A thousand pretty words were strung like dewdrops on a spider strand between them, glistening and unsaid and doomed to disappear with the dawn.</p><p>They would never talk about it, Dani realized. About how tonight was different. About how Jamie’s hand was gently fisting a handful of hair at the back of her head as her breaths puffed into Dani’s open mouth. About how Dani was cradling the side of Jamie’s head with her palm, her thumb stroking a path against her cheek. They would never talk about how unlike fucking this was, this thing they were doing. They would pretend it never happened like this—each smearing liquid heat against the other, desperate in a way that was new. Desperate not to reach a peak but just to feel. To feel each other. Dani came, gasping and pouring little noises into Jamie’s mouth and it was like a wave, surging and taking Jamie down with it. Dani watched her eyes as Jamie came not even a minute later, dark and intense with pleasure and then soft and fluttering just after. Her brow furrowed, almost like she was confused by what had just happened, but she gently drew Dani down to her mouth, kissing her softly. Tonight had been different, but they both knew there was no use in saying so.</p><p>They drifted off, tangled together for once. For the first time. And the last thought Dani had before sleep crept up and claimed her was an echo of Jamie’s words from days before, repeated and reverberating around the cave’s little chamber.</p><p><em>Another lifetime. Another lifetime. Another lifetime. </em> </p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>There were dark clouds at the edge of the horizon when the sun rose, low and ominous.</p><p>They ate breakfast together, Owen had made flapjacks and coffee, but in the end he and Hannah were the only ones who ate.</p><p>“Have everythin’?” Jamie asked later, sticking her head into Dani’s room as Dani packed up her belongings. A felt green hat from the Drifter’s Market. A beaded bracelet from Kaiwani. A brand new knife from Jamie. Drawings from the children. Peter’s remaining dollar from the Drifter’s Market, rumpled and filthy. He’d insisted she take it. She’d insisted he keep Paradise Lost.</p><p>“Think so,” she said, and Jamie helped her bring the bag downstairs.</p><p>Dani said goodbye to Owen and Hannah first. It was easier, saying goodbye to them. They hugged her and wished her well, but seemed to recognize the difficult task ahead, retreating upstairs to give the rest of them space to say farewell.</p><p> </p><p>Miles and Flora were standing in the street, sullen and resigned.</p><p>“I don’t like goodbyes,” Flora said resolutely, and Dani nodded. She would follow Flora’s lead here. She recognized a set jaw and a mind made up when she saw it. “It’s perfectly stupid,” the little girl said, not quite looking at Dani but rather settling her eyes somewhere by Dani’s shoulder, “to leave just when everything was turning out well.” Finally she looked Dani in the eye. “Don’t you like us, Mrs. O’Mara?”</p><p>It took a moment to answer, and when she did she reached for Miles’ hand as well. “You are,” she said, and her voice caught in her throat, “the best children I’ve ever met, and I’ve met many. I’ve had a classroom full for nearly seven years.”</p><p>Flora smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Dani turned to Miles.</p><p>“Promise you’ll save me a ticket?” She asked. “I plan to be there on opening night.”</p><p>“Do you?” He asked, a little quirk in his brow.</p><p>Dani nodded sincerely and hated herself for lying to him, even as a little smile blossomed on his face.</p><p>“Make it happy,” she was suddenly compelled to say, tapping her finger on the top of his journal. “When you write the rest of it, make it happy. Life isn’t always sad, Miles,” she needed him to believe this. “The best stories are happy ones.”</p><p>Then, without warning, he hugged her. A great grasping hug, his arms wrapped entirely around her middle. And Dani hugged him back, resting one hand atop his head as she swallowed around the knot in her throat. Flora folded into the hug next and Dani opened her arms to encircle them both.</p><p>When they’d parted and Dani had started back up the road to where Jamie was waiting, she looked back at them. Flora was standing tall, her brow worried and her lips pursed as if to keep them from trembling, and Miles was standing beside her, his journal clutched tightly to his chest like it was his only tether in a mounting tempest.</p><p>Moon was hitched to a post in front of the saloon, ready for the journey. Jamie was there, cleaning off her boots, and Peter was standing at her side. He grabbed Dani’s wrist when she approached.</p><p>“Stay,” he said, meeting her eyes when he said it. “Stay. Stay.”</p><p>Dani hugged him, squeezed every towering, gentle-giant ounce of him, but he quickly pulled away.</p><p>“Stay,” he said again, sounding nearly panicked.</p><p>“She can’t stay, mate,” Jamie said softly, still brushing dry dirt from her boots.</p><p>“Stay!” Peter shouted, and his eyes were welling up with tears.</p><p>“Peter,” Dani started, reaching out for him, but he pulled away farther, tears beginning to track lines through the desert dust on his face.</p><p>He began to hit at his chest, and Jamie grabbed his wrists but it wasn’t enough. He spun away and started hitting his own head, harder and harder. The children appeared beside him. Miles handed him Silver and Peter put the toy to his face, letting it soak up the muddy tears. Flora slipped her tiny hand into his massive one.</p><p>They stood to the side, the three of them, watching as Jamie helped Dani into the saddle. As she climbed on behind her.</p><p>“Mrs. O’Mara!” Miles called when they had started down the street.</p><p>Jamie stopped Moon so Dani could look back.</p><p>“You’re wrong, you know. About happy stories being the best.”</p><p>Dani shook her head, questioning.</p><p>Miles grinned. “The best stories are the ones where you can’t tell how it’s going to end. Where everything seems hopeless right up until the last possible moment.”</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>Dani looked back at Bly once. Just once. Beyond the town three figures were silhouetted atop the ridge. Peter and the children, she could tell by their heights, watching them as they went. They’d taken her against her will, held her as captive. But for all the world it felt like it was Dani who was in the wrong. Like she was abandoning them. Leaving them to weather those black clouds on the horizon alone.</p><p> </p><p>~*~</p><p> </p><p>It took hours to reach the town, and they didn’t speak once the entire ride. She pictured Miles on the ridge, angry and scared. She pictured Flora crying. Peter sulking and wandering. She watched the desert go by, cacti and tumbleweed. Red rocks and dust. The song echoed in her head as they rode. <em>I’m just going over Jordan.</em> On and on, the soft plucks of the banjo, the melancholy echo of Hannah’s voice. <em>I’m just going over home.</em><br/><br/>It was another ghost town they were closing in on. Clearly abandoned, but bigger than Bly. A wide dusty spread of clapboard structures and crooked fences. Jamie tethered Moon to a post at the outskirts of the town. </p><p>“Are we meeting—?” Dani looked around but there were no signs of life to be found.</p><p>“In the churchyard,” Jamie said gruffly.</p><p>The churchyard. <em>Of course. </em></p><p>They made their way through the outskirts of the little town. Dilapidated houses and rusty water towers. The buildings were taller at the center of town and as they walked between them Dani expected Edmund to appear at any moment. The clock had wound down and she was minutes away. Minutes away from never seeing Jamie again. It was a heaviness that rushed into her like an empty canteen held beneath water. A slow winding of a thick rope around her rib cage. A sinking like deadweight in quicksand. </p><p>They meandered through the town, the sun beating down, small lizards skittering as they went. They turned down one dusty narrow road and then another, and Dani stopped short because she’d heard a horse whinny in the distance just out of view.</p><p>Her heart pounded and her stomach squirmed. Jamie was watching her and it looked like she was in pain and it only made Dani’s heart pound faster. Then there were voices—men, it sounded like, several of them, and Dani was shaking her head, looking at Jamie in confusion—</p><p>“Who—who else is here?”</p><p>And Jamie seemed to be struggling with the answer and then she was reaching out an arm, a hand for Dani to hold but <em>no,</em> Dani didn’t want to be led to Edmund, she didn’t want to be dragged.</p><p>“Jamie—” her voice was wavering and paper thin, “I don’t want to—”</p><p>Suddenly Jamie had a hand wrapped around her wrist and she was pulling her, tugging her not toward the voices but down a shadowed alleyway between two buildings, dark and overgrown.</p><p>When they were hidden in the shadows Jamie pushed her against the rough wood wall, slid a hand into her hair and kissed her like it was the last time she’d ever be able to. And there was nothing to be done for Dani’s tears then—they began to fall and she let them fall because it <em>was </em>the last time. The last kiss. And there was still so much, so much unsaid, so much she wanted to—</p><p>“Jamie,” she wrenched her head free only to lean forward, forehead to forehead. Jamie’s eyes were gray and green, Dani could see an entire hurricane waiting there. “Jamie,” she said again, because the clock had run out, a fortnight had passed and this was it, and if she didn’t say it now she would never have another chance. She had to say it. To tell her. She needed Jamie to know. It would change nothing, but she needed Jamie to know. Dani reached up, set her palm flat against the side of Jamie’s lovely face.</p><p>She caught Jamie’s eyes and she said it, in a voice that was brave and certain. “I love—"</p><p>But suddenly Jamie’s hand was clamping down over her mouth. Jamie was shaking her head. Dani made a noise, half-startled, half-confused. Jamie’s hand was pressing down against her still-open mouth and Dani watched her eyes as the hurricane began to swirl.</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Jamie whispered, angry and harsh. “You can’t fuckin’ say that—”</p><p>Dani made another noise and started pushing at Jamie’s hand because she <em>had </em>to say it, it was true and she had to—</p><p>“I work for your father,” Jamie said.</p><p>The words were a strange and foreign object, lodged in Dani’s ear.</p><p>“He hired me to kidnap you,” she said, and Dani’s vision began to swim as Jamie’s voice came distorted and far away. “You can’t say that when I’ve been workin’ for him this whole fuckin’ time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Because I definitely jammed to these while writing, feel free to join me in enjoying:</p><p>Arkansas Traveler:</p><p>https://youtu.be/SG6vXZUmSxM </p><p>Poor Wayfaring Stranger:</p><p>https://youtu.be/b1Z4PAZX9Bs</p><p>Also, I have a tumblr now (as n0tmyname) in case any of you want to say hey over there!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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